The Long Trial
by R Coles
Summary: Havah Lassee is a hybrid whose race is unknown. After fighting as a Marine in the EarthMinbari War, the identity of her alien parent is revealed. The ensuing Shadow War brings her to Alyt Neroon and the realization of her family and who she needs to be.
1. Chapter 1

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

The Long Trial: Part I

Chapter 1: The War

At 1943 hours, Havah Lassee entered the bunker at the training outpost on Proxima Three. Almost immediately afterwards, the sky fell. It happened so quickly that her only memories of the cataclysm were the sudden slamming of metal and cement down over her head, and spraying of water from the burst pipes surrounding her. The dust and smell of searing organic matter and building materials filled her lungs, as screaming filled her ears. She didn't know if it was hers or someone else's. The world spun around her. Her head ached from a skull-cracking blow to the back of her head. She hadn't been crushed, she realized, as she slowly began resuming movement, wiggling fingers, toes, neck. Every sinew ached with the shock wave of force that had driven her to the ground. The sting of shrapnel, and the contusions on her back kept her conscious momentarily. She heard a sergeant yelling orders and soldiers moving, rushing to respond to cries for help. Then, she lost consciousness for an indeterminate amount of time. She awoke, imprisoned by fallen fragments of wall in a cell about a foot and a half tall and six feet long. Painfully, she stretched her left foot out against the rubble to see if it would give way. It did. She widened the aperture, and slowly wriggled out backwards on her stomach. About halfway, she froze.

Coarse alien voices were coming from a distance. She could only assume they were Minbari voices. The language was like none she had ever heard. Earth Force had known the Minbari had organized an assault on colony worlds and outposts, but it appeared that they had miscalculated the timing. Well, if those Minbari units were in eye-sight, she was probably just as dead if she slid back in, except she would die trapped, so she pushed the rest of her body out by her arms, sharp little pebbles digging into her cheek. From her belly she looked up. She couldn't see them, so she assumed for the moment that they couldn't see her. Like a lizard, she crawled behind a large crag towards the voices and peered from under the six-inch tall overhang and sized up the situation, clearing disheveled black hair out of her eyes with a finger. Her whole body was shaking with adrenaline and her senses were heightened. There was an odd sense of detachment, as though watching a screen on which remote events unraveled. She had been deployed to this post a couple of weeks ago for additional training after joining the Earth Force Marines a year or so earlier. And now, there was no more time for training. There they were.

Two of them, dressed in rough black uniform jackets that hung down to the middle of their legs. She had never seen a Minbari before, and the sight stirred some bizarre sense of déjà vu. It was dark, but the silhouette of their head-crests jutted at odd angles pointing to the sky from which they had come. The convolutions of bone looked rough, like a volcanic landscape. Although humanoid, their faces were undeniably alien, as though someone had taken a human face and sharpened the angles. Their eyes were piercing even through the gloom, scanning the horizon, preternaturally attuned to every fine motion. She breathed as softly as she could and waited for a bright idea, any idea. Before she could form any, the warriors dived for the ground and rolled, as bursts of fire blazed across her field of vision. They returned fire as they tumbled, and a cry of pain issued from behind twisted steel struts about ten feet away from her, poking from a cracked toppled wall like broken bones. In a blur of tan and red, an injured Marine charged the closer of the two soldiers, swinging a broken gun in a melted fist. The nearer of the two Minbari soldiers floated fluidly to his feet, grabbed the man and swung him around, slicing his throat with a hooked dagger that had materialized in his black-gloved hand. He sneered and let the man drop onto a pile of debris. The Minbari slipped around the wall and pummeled into another hidden soldier. She heard the man's death gurgle. The wall shook and shed crumbs of concrete with the impact of the human's body. Her heart lurched as they began searching the perimeter for more guerrillas. Another Marine rushed them.

Masked by the sound of the scuffle, she crept back to the pile of debris she had escaped from, now a hiding place, and began to shove her way in, but they were too close. She pulled a chunk of rubble on top of her bleeding head and went limp just before they approached, playing dead. She waited as her air ran out. An alien voice rasped over her and a there was a faint whiff of ozone. A boot toe nudged the cement block off of the side of her head. Then it drove into her side, cracking at least one rib. She screamed in blinding agony. The soldier grabbed her by the hair at the base of her scalp. Her hand clawed at his trachea, and her heels drove into his knees. He yowled with pain and shot a blast into the left side of her chest and dropped her. She didn't move, smoke curling from the hole in her chest. He fired another shot, just to make sure the vermin was dead. It hit the same scorched wound. She didn't even flinch. He left.

She returned to consciousness some time later, and wished she hadn't. Her chest was on fire, and she gasped for air. Her hands creeped up and found an edge of blistered skin. It burned wildly and she withdrew her fingers, shivering from the cold that was gripping the rest of her body. He had missed her heart, but she was sliding into shock. She gazed at the charred sky and charnel silence, surrounded by the sucking furnace sounds of the fires, the wind, and the whisper of dust. Thoughts played through her mind absurdly as she lay fighting for breath. What if they were still here? It was clear that she was going to die, now. What was left to her? She hadn't even tried to oppose them, and there was no chance now, unless they were still here, but what could she do to them, in shock, dying. There had to be a way. Having a mission seemed to make it easier to move. She climbed to feet that no longer seemed to be attached to her body, choking and tasting iron. If she found grenades and set them off, then more reinforcements would be sent, or the Minbari would just send blasts from orbit. She would have to find a way of attacking them surreptitiously. Dust burned in her eyes…Dust. It was coating her nose and lungs. She arduously filled pocket after pocket of her jumpsuit with dust and coarse pebbles.

As she surveyed the landscape, there was nothing but empty wreckage and corpses. _I'm all alone_. She shook off the grief that welled up as suddenly as an earthquake, and wiggled into what used to be a supply room and took a PPG with as many caps as she could cram into her suit, and handfuls of detonators. Creeping from block to block, scanning around her for any motion or sound, she came in sight of a scattered unit of Minbari. They didn't see her, as she struggled to control the stridor in her lungs, which sounded like a roar in her ears. She set a detonator and threw it. It popped nearby. Two of the soldiers went to investigate leaving two behind. She set another one and threw it directly behind them, praying that they did not see the trajectory from which it came. They jumped at the sound behind them, and then drew their guns. As they turned back around, sensing her motion in front of them, she darted forward hurling dust, glass and debris in their eyes. She dived and fired and threw more dust into the faces of the third and fourth soldiers returning from her earlier distraction, and kept firing. A bolt sizzled by her ear and she smelled burnt hair. One of them had gotten off a wild shot despite the dust in his eyes, nose and throat. But she had peppered the Minbari with devastating shots to the head and neck. They could alert no one now.

She moved on, cough riddled with blood. Her muscles trembled, barely obeying her, shivering involuntarily with the loss of blood to her skin and extremities. There wasn't much time now. She spied the perimeter guards from around a corner, and after staring for a few moments despairingly, an idea came to her. Picking her way around crackling fires, she revisiting the supply area, and pulled a breathing unit from the piles of rock. The face mask was smashed but she pulled off the breathing canisters and stuffed them down her jumpsuit. The tracking control building was nearby and the storage facility underneath it. The Minbari had been aiming for astrometrics. The door to the storage room had wedged open, and she squeezed inside, clambering over piles of scrap. Faint light illuminated the liquid nitrogen tanks against the back wall, and she filled the breathing canisters and stuck them back in her jumpsuit.

She doubled back to a dead female Minbari who had seemed close to her size and build. Laboriously, she pulled off the heavy black coat, smelling of ozone and some kind of spicy musk, shirts, trousers and boots. She took off her jumpsuit and put on the female's gear, transferring the canisters, and detonators to the Minbari gear. The PPG she left in her Earth Force-issue jumpsuit. Their guns were more powerful. She pulled her tangled mass of hair into two bunches and tied them in two Asian top-knots at the crown of her head, wincing with the stabbing pain shooting through her lungs and chest with every movement. Arms shaking, she pulled the hood of the coat up, hoping that it would fill the same spots as the head-crest. She looked a bit like the woman whose clothes she was wearing, light skin with a slight olive tint. Although the woman had had hazel eyes, and hers were coal-black, their facial structure was similar, right down to the odd bone shelf running from the tips of her eyebrow ridges to the nasal curve just above the bridge. Of course, the woman had no eyebrows. But none of these things were immediately noticeable with the hood pulled up. The edge should have thrown her eyebrows into shadow. She nudged the woman over on her back and froze. Low on her back, right down the middle, starting at about the fifth lumbar vertebrae and extending down into the soldier's undergarments was a thin sky-blue streak similar to one on her own back, a peculiar marking that seemed too symmetrical to be a birthmark, like a dorsal seam. Because of the strange blue color, Havah had gotten a tattoo of a blue morpho butterfly around it, with the marking as the body. The color matched that on the woman's head at the edge of the bone crest. She shook off another peculiar sensation. Her vision started to blur and a fuzzy darkness kept trying to creep in from the edges of her sight. _Not yet!_ She fought, _just a little longer._

She crept back to the perimeter guards around one of their troop transports. The ribbed ship was elegant for a transport. It reminded her of a sea-skate or a ray, with fins out to either side, resting in a current of dust. She took in as deep a breath as she could manage and felt her ancestors' fire in her veins and behind her eyes, and cursed silently. The only prayer she remembered was the Shma. It would do as well as any. "Shma yisroel Adonai elohenu…" she whispered, straightened her back, taking on the proud stride of her people, those she had been born to, and those she was raised by, which could have been mistaken by the watching guards she approached, as the confident stride of a Minbari soldier.

One of them addressed her in Minbari, a strong resonant voice. _Why does Shurinn have her hood up like that, something seems wrong,_ the guard realized a second before she laid a searing energy bolt from a Minbari gun into his chest, and one into each of the other three guards surrounding the transport, as they turned towards the shot, faces in alarm at the flash in her dark eyes. She continued to fire until they stopped moving. There was no one in the transport. With unbelievable struggle and pain she could feel even through the haze of shock, she dragged their bodies one-by-one across the debris and away from the ship, burying them among piles of concrete. Any remaining soldiers would have to look for them. She couldn't let it be obvious that the ship had been compromised. She limped back to the ship, clutching her side, feeling an unpleasant gurgle in her lung. Every time she took breath, it was like breathing powdered glass. She found the feed valve for the gas tanks. It was cold to the touch with the slurry of deuterium inside. She pulled out the breathing canisters and fed them into the valve, closed it and walked away. She found nine more groups of soldiers, dressed in her Minbari gear and killed them all, then returned to watch the ship from under a chunk of wall, like a by-stander drawn to a terrible highway accident. Three warriors approached, saw no one standing guard and turned back around, guns drawn, surveying the scenery around them. Two fanned out searching through debris for bodies, and one cautiously entered the ship to contact the mother ship waiting in orbit. The two returned, carrying the bodies of their fallen comrades, faces rigid with anger. They glared across the waste, eyes passing over where she was, and then they entered the ship. The two left again to search for parties whom they did not yet realize were not coming, and returned some time later, ashen-faced and fists clenched, carrying each a body. A punctuated conversation ensued between the body-bearers, and the one who had stayed at the ship. Havah watched, not understanding anything but that they were leaving, and almost sobbed with relief. But now she was alone, with the holocaust, and freezing chill that was claiming her limbs and the creeping darkness that clouded her vision. _I don't want to die! I'm not ready yet! Help!_ She faded, crouched behind a building heap, as the transport exploded in orbit and little streamers of fire coursed through the atmosphere, illuminating the darkness behind her eyelids.

A couple hours later, a Human ship, having learned of the attack, on their recall to Earth, stopped to pick up survivors. Beneath the topmost layer of atmosphere, the air was murky with dust where the sky should be. Acrid smoke puffed and wisped around the flyers, like bizarre plumes from a sea of witches' cauldrons.

"What the hell? She's Human! Get her to Med Lab." She heard someone say somewhere over her. "Do you think she's a deserter?" _NO!_ _Wait…I'm alive! _Blazing pain gripped her entire body. She screamed in her mind, realizing with dismay that she was wearing the uniform of a Minbari soldier, but her voice wouldn't work. There were a couple of EMTs standing over her, shining a light in her face. "There's no way of knowing what happened until she can talk. Get her to the lab, she's not going anywhere." Even with the horror of what she knew they must be thinking, English was still the most beautiful language she had ever heard. _Maybe they'll listen_, she thought despairingly. _And maybe_ _I'm a super-model._

Med Lab was eerily empty and subdued. There were the staff, and then about twenty or thirty soldiers with various levels of injury, some moribund, some recovering. But there were more corpses than patients. She listened, half-conscious, as they took a man with half of one leg missing, behind a cubicle, moaning dejectedly. Then the gurney lifted as she was carried into a cubicle, and faded again.

"I want three units of O-negative now! She's in shock!…No, wait. What the devil? Her blood type isn't compatible…" One look at the agglutination test told the doctor that her blood type was not Human. "Get me three units of synthetic until I can figure out what the hell to give her!…Get me a sample of Minbari blood!…She's dressed as one of 'em, I got a bad feeling about this!…Third degree burns to the upper lobe of the left lung. Some of the alveoli and bronchial tubes have been cauterized. Burns consistent with Minbari lasers, with scarring to the surrounding tissue. Her physiology and anatomy are extremely unusual." The doctor sealed the incision and ran his scanner down her body. "Look at this, her heart is on the right side. And her bone density…is at least twice that of a normal Human." He found the contusion at the back of her head. "Remarkable."

When she opened her eyes, dull pain gripped her again, but it was confirmation that she was alive, and would stay that way, at least for a while, until the man facing her now decided to space her. The cold eyes of the captain stared into hers. She was cuffed to the bed, and she could see two guards facing her. Her stomach turned as she realized how much trouble she was in. _Oh crap!_ She thought. _They won't believe me, why should they?"_

"Private Havah Lassee?"

"Yes, sir!" She said weakly.

"You are under arrest. I suggest you answer my questions thoroughly."

"Of course, sir. Please let me explain, sir!" She tried to sit up, but couldn't move her hands enough to help her aching body sit upright. She recounted everything that had occurred until she had been found. After she finished, he just stared at her incredulously, obviously not believing her.

"You expect me to believe that yarn, Private! None of the reports I've seen so far show that we've had success against the Minbari in hand-to-hand combat, or extensive ground-fighting, and you expect me to believe that you played dress-up and waltzed up to them and blew them away, as easy as pie? Do you think I am that stupid, or are you merely in the grip of some fantasy!"

"Sir, nothing about it was easy! And, if you don't believe me, then have me scanned. I'm telling you the truth. I would never betray Earth!" She was shocked by her own brash tone, convinced that he would just kill her right on the bed under the eyes of the guards and the medical staff alike. The doctor hovered nearby, refusing to leave the room of his patient. But the captain was too preoccupied to kill her, or pay any mind to the doctor.

"Why don't you have a Human blood type, Private?"

"I'm a chimera, sir. My mother was Human, and my father was some other race, I don't know what. They were both captured by other aliens. They were experimented on. I'm that experiment, sir. They escaped and my mother was pregnant. She didn't survive the pregnancy, and I think my father is dead, I don't even think he ever knew about me."

"What race were they, the aliens who captured them? What race was your father?"

"I don't know what race they were, only that they looked different from my father. My adopted parents told me about it, but they didn't know much, just what my mother told them before she died."

"And what did they look like?"

"I don't know, sir. I swear I don't know."

He turned on his heel and stalked out. She let her head fall to the pillow, wanting to cry, but too tired. Too tired to even pull at the restraints. Her lung and ribs burned. The captain returned an hour later with a telepath, his worn blue eyes searching her face for a reaction. "You stated earlier, Private, that you would submit to a scan, in the interest of truth. Are you still willing?"

"Yes sir." Her stomach lurched again at the sight of the black gloves. She had never been scanned, but she had heard stories. The thought nauseated her, but it was better than being thought a traitor. The woman sat down next to Havah's bed, and put her hand reassuringly on Havah's shoulder. Havah wanted to shake it off, but just looked back at her.

"Try not to resist, or the scan will be uncomfortable. The scan will not harm you,, and it will be easier for you if you relax. You may experience a headache after the scan, but this is minor."

_Thanks,_ Havah thought, not at all reassured, as she watched the woman's professional smile gleam. A knife-like thought sliced into her brain sifting through experiences that Havah re-lived as though they were being sucked out of her in a whirlpool. And then a vise-like ache gripped the circumference of her skull. _Minor headache?_ She thought, _minor in comparison to a melted lung and broken ribs maybe_.

"Miss Sheffield, my office please."

The telepath left with the captain, casting her a warm glance.

The captain strode in, about a half an hour later while Havah was staring at the ceiling, wondering what would happen to her now.

"Private Lassee."

"Yes, sir?" She didn't even have the energy to move.

The captain motioned one of the guards to undo the restraints. She just lay there, staring at him, to tired and hurt to care if he was offended.

"The telepath confirmed what you told me, and so did a couple of survivors. One was another private. He saw one of your attacks and he's already told what he saw to half my ship. Frankly, it's an unbelievable story, but, well, the evidence is there. And if you are part alien, then it's possible that you could have had an advantage on those warriors. The doctor tells me that if your heart had been where a Human's is supposed to be, you'd be dead right now. You're very lucky."

"Yes, sir." She hadn't missed the innuendo within the comment 'supposed to be,' but he was right. At least she was alive, and not under arrest.

"Well, you have recovering to do, Private. By the way, it was a brave thing you did, and I will make a recommendation that you receive commendations for your actions, when we return."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir!"

He cracked a tiny smile and left again.

She left Med Lab five days later, since her physiology seemed to be returning her strength rather quickly, and she was more likely to die of boredom than her sore lung. She was quartered with a squad pilot. She saluted numbly to the woman.

"Hello ma'am, thanks for sharing your space with me."

"No problem, you ok?"

"Just tired, ma'am…really tired."

The grim-faced woman nodded. "It's only going to get worse from here. They are headed for a direct assault on Earth, where we're headed. You should rest while you can," she pointed to the extra cot.

"Thank you, ma'am." She collapsed gratefully onto the offered cot and fell almost immediately asleep for several hours. They were three days away from Earth with the Minbari fleet hours ahead of them.

When she awoke, hungry, it seemed everyone on the ship had heard about her retaliation on the base. News like that seemed to speed through a verbal jumpgate. As she walked through the hallways, she thought people nodded at her here and there.

In the mess, a tall sturdy officer with cropped corn-silk hair approached her table and asked, "You're Private Lassee?"

"Yes sir."

He motioned for her to follow him. Bringing her meal with her, she entered the officers' mess. Their meals didn't appear to be any more appealing.

"I'm Lieutenant Jenkins, I heard what you did! That's pretty amazing!" He beamed. She returned a shy smile.

"Thanks sir."

"This is Lieutenant Garcia, Chin, and Donaldson. She's our squad leader." He indicated the sand-colored woman whose quarters she was sharing.

"Good job, Private Lassee! Can I call you Havah? That's a very interesting name."

"Of course ma'am. Thank you ma'am. It means Eve."

"My name is Jenna, and this lummox is Ron," she gestured to the blonde who was still smiling approvingly at her, "Jesus, everyone calls him Geezus." A handsome Hispanic man flashed her a bright toothy grin. "And James." A tall lanky Asian man nodded.

Geezus was cute. She glanced at him and he gave her another dashing grin. "Hey Chiquita, you did awesome! POW, POW, POW! Throwing it all in their eyes, kickin' all the boneheads' asses! Man, I wish I could have been there to see it! Twenty-seven of them on the ground and the rest in the air, shootin' them with their OWN GUNS, DAMN girl!" He chucked her on the shoulder with his fist. "Remind me never to piss you off ok? HaHA!" He winked at her and stuck a forkful of corn in his mouth.

Chin smiled, his black hair bristling at his temples. "You were in training there?"

"Yes sir. They sent me from boot camp."

"What kind of training?"

"Tracking, long-range weaponry, nukes, pulse-cannons and stuff like that."

"Tracking…you ever flown?" They all looked at her with interest.

"I'd started going out tandem, and then took a couple of flights solo with the tech sergeant going point. The day before they hit. Thursday."

"Have you ever considered Special Forces?" Jenkins piped in.

"Yeah, although I haven't decided whether I want to go career or not. I joined because of the war." Her face was turning red as she spoke.

Garcia laughed, "Whatchoo mean, you don't want this haute cuisine for the rest of your life?" He hoisted a huge wad of gray meat up on his knife. "Ay, nothing wrong with that, man!"

Donaldson said, "What do you think you'll do after the war?"

Havah pondered, "I don't know, I really have no clue what I want to do with my life. I like mythology, but I have no idea how I would get a job in it, unless I was a professor."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Dios Mio!" Garcia interjected.

Jenkins chuckled. "I bet the Minbari would love knowing that they had their butts kicked by a teenager practically…No offense."

She grinned, "None taken sir." He didn't look all that much older than her really, none of them did, except Donaldson.

"Did you like flying?"

"I loved it, I wish I could do more of it, but that's probably a slim chance now."

His eyes twinkled, but the mood darkened.

"Not so slim," Donaldson said somberly, "We've lost a number of pilots already and the attack on Earth is going to be bad. We may wind up accepting volunteers from anyone with any experience who can steer a ship. Do you plan to volunteer?"

Havah decided not to mention the nature of her injuries in sick bay, and hoped they wouldn't ask. It was unlikely they'd make that offer if they knew there'd been injuries to her lung or head, or maybe the situation was too desperate to matter much...

"Yes ma'am, if there is a need I do."

"Well, I think it could be arranged with the commander for your training to be continued here until we approach Earth."

"Thank you ma'am!" She gaped at Donaldson, stunned.

"I'll get back to you as soon as something can be set up."

"Welcome to the air, baby!" Garcia shook her hand vigorously. They finished eating and she returned with Donaldson to her quarters.

Donaldson arranged it as she had said. Havah took shifts in the simulation units, training with Geezus, while the ship rushed towards Earth. There was no time left for real skin-dancing exercises. It would have slowed the ship down too much to wait for the Star Furies. Time for Earth was running out. So they practiced inside the ship. In the meantime, this was more fun than she remembered having for weeks, years maybe, almost enough to forget why she was getting this chance. Geezus had taken to calling her Skywalker. Havah had to suppress a giggle every time Geezus responded with "Not bad Skywalker." Or "You have grown powerful young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi yet!" Or the best, "HawHoooooo,' he dragged a wheeze out of the com-link, "Young Skywalker, you are no match for the POWAH of the DARK SIDE!" And he barrelled into a dizzying roll. She tried to mimic him but lost the roll in peals of laughter and flamed out. Once she regained control of the virtual craft, they tried again, and again.

That night she dreamed strangely, fragments really. There was a dark man in a Star Fury, heavy well-defined eyebrows, strong jawline, dark eyes the color of molasses, with a deep resonant voice. His aft engines had been hit and he was hurtling towards the biggest Minbari ship she had ever seen, a whale-gray leviathan spitting streams of blue fire from its snout. It stunned his craft and snared it, then drug it in like an angler fish drawing in prey. She shuddered and tried to scream to him through a heavy malaise. She knew this man, she knew him, his name started with J, Jesus, Jeffrey. Then he was gone and she was on a dark arid planet. Strange arachnids surrounded her. They seemed to shift in and out of vision and reality. They reminded her of bed-time after sneaking the horror movies her mother never let her watch, when she used to turn out the light and leap into bed from the door, afraid that if she got too close, a chitinous claw would reach out and grab her ankle. The creatures held back a small crying Minbari female child, and she could see an immature little head-bone, bobbing up and down as she sobbed, surrounded by twisted shadows. The girl's name was Kuraal. Serpentine warbling in her ear and all around her, told her that she had a choice. She could have the girl, they said, if she would go with them. It was for the best really, they said, she was meant for this, and the girl would live. Before they could speak any more soft implacable sounds, she snatched a dagger hidden in her trousers and plunged it into her throat, severing the main artery.

She awoke writhing on the little cot, clutching her throat, soaked in sweat.

"Havah, are you alright?"

"Yes sir, just had a bad dream," she replied shakily. She stared at the shifting shadows cast by the ceiling struts for the remainder of the night.

When she saw Geezus the next day, she couldn't help but feel anxious. She liked him. He was dark and handsome, the kind of man she was attracted to, and he always winked at her and joked around. That seemed like a small thing, and could easily be annoying from anyone else, but from him it was warm, even comforting. But she was a Marine, and he was a fighter pilot, and it was unlikely that he even had thought of her that way. They really had enough to think about right now. _Still, they might only have another day left, and if they were all going to die anyway…_

"I like you," she blurted, instantly wanting to sink into the floor.

"What was that, baby, I'm sorry, I had my head in this panel." He grinned at her.

"Um, nothing sir, I was just muttering to myself."

"Hey, what did I tell you, you don't have to call me 'sir' all the time. When we're training I'm just Geezus to you, or Lord Savior if you want, since I'm always saving your butt from crashing into an asteroid! And a very nice butt too, JUST KIDDING!" He chortled and clapped her on the back. "No seriously, you've been doing great, let's go!" The moment had passed, and so had her courage. _How could I have walked up to Minbari warriors and shot them point blank, and yet I can't talk to a cute boy without stuttering?_ She sighed and put on her suit.

Earth was surrounded. These were the last days. Havah choked when she heard. And then the call came. _We're too late! I survived this shit, only to watch my home destroyed. There's no place for me to go home to now!_ They arrived at the rear of an astronautic meat grinder. Things were far worse than "bad" as Jenna Donaldson had put it. The call was for ALL fighters capable of flying. The two women looked at one another in the hangar, for a couple seconds that they could spare. Donaldson nodded, "Good luck, Havah, just stay close."

"Yes, sir." She was more scared than she had ever been, her knees felt watery. At Proxima Three there had been no time for fear. Now there was just enough. Geezus winked at her, but his face was grim. "Geezus bless you, my child! Hehe, See you on the Dark Side, Skywalker!"

They pulled out of the dock and entered the fray.

"Gamma six, pull in!" The most inexperienced by far, Havah was flanked by Geezus and Chin. The Minbari were everywhere. The colossal ships she had seen in her dream were slicing through Hyperion-class cruisers as though they were paper mache boats, and the Star Furies were exploding and dissolving in all manner of ways. Any Star Fury caught in the beam of a war cruiser simply exploded with a red flash of oxygen. Swarms of little Minbari fighters, like ice minnows, slipped through space pummeling the Star Furies with crystal blasts of fire from triple gun-ports. They looked like sparkling stone tear-drops, and with every sparkle, an Earth fighter was destroyed. She thrust the pitch backward and jerked her craft up as a blast passed under the ship, and wagged the roll sideways as another came in from the side.

And then there were too many of them. Donaldson directed the team to split in two columns and separate before they could be flanked, but it was too late. And in a flash she was gone, Chin was gone, and most of the others. She gasped, realizing that she had stopped breathing, and then her breath came in heaves. "Stay on me, Skywalker!" Geezus's voice came through tinny. They bobbed and weaved and fired until an actinic beam cascaded through his tiny ship, the shock wave sending her into a wild roll backwards. Just like that. He was gone too. She couldn't breathe but she croaked "Damage report." Her forward thrusters were damaged, firing was damaged, engines were damaged. The poor ship was practically dead in space. What wasn't damaged was the sensor that told her that her ship was about to be fired on. Then it was encased in a shaft of light, a tractor beam. She was being pulled to one of the titans. There was nothing to do but watch the mechanical and human debris float past, like bizarre algae in a murky pond, what she could see through the film of light cast by the beam drawing her inexorably into the belly of the alien ship. _What do I do now? I need a plan._ The only thing she could think of was to come out attacking and take down as many as she could before they killed her. Or perhaps she could overload the system somehow and cause the Star Fury to explode. She pulled at panels, but Star Fury technology was not her specialty, and she didn't know how to overload it. And then she was in their dock. She kicked open the hatch and the warriors grabbed her. She felt a spray in her face, and the world faded to black.

She came to hazy consciousness surrounded by a beam of strong light, bound hand and foot to a device, probably an interrogation room by the feel of it. Did the Minbari speak English? But they weren't speaking at all, silent menacing shapes just out of reach of the illumination. One came forward in a voluminous woolen gray robe and stood in front of her face.

She howled at him, "BUTCHERS! I hope you burn in HELL!" She could taste iron again, and her lungs felt raw. She kept seeing scattered wreckage, knowing that Geezus and Donaldson and Chin, and another young fighter like the one she'd seen in her dream were particles in the universe now, all because of a mistake. She had never been so angry in her life. There was no fear any more, just rage. She screamed the Shma at the top of her lungs, a blood-thirsty ululation. "_SHMA YISROEL ADONAI ELOHENU ADONAI ECHAD! HEAR O ISRAEL THE LORD IS OUR GOD THE LORD IS ONE!…"_ she went, and on and on, "_V'CHARA AF ADONAI BACHEM V'ATZAR ET! FOR THEN THE WRATH OF THE ETERNAL WILL BE ENKINDLED AGAINST YOU!…"_ For the first time in years she completed the prayer, and her fury wasn't even close to being spent.

The Minbari merely stared. Something made her think it was a he, although he hadn't spoken. She didn't know why she was bothering to translate the words of the prayer. If they didn't understand English, what chance did they have of understanding Hebrew. She stood bound and panting having thrown not a single blow. They were reveling in her powerlessness. A female voice came from beyond the circle. The figure before her responded harshly in Minbari, a raspy voice from a gray hood. He held up a delicate instrument, an equilateral triangle of slender glass rods with a pyrite crystal in the center, anchored by a network of wire. Through the drug- and rage-induced haze she peered at it.

As if cued, a tiny spark kindled in the center of the crystal and suffused the fragile structure with a slight shimmer. There were muted exclamations and a frenetic murmur from the assembled silhouettes. The diminutive female spoke from just outside the circumference of light, shrouded in hood and robe. She pulled the hood back, but it was impossible to make out her features except for the outline of her crest. Her voice was imperious and strong but undeniably feminine. As the woman spoke, Havah began to feel another presence aside from the small crowd in the darkness. This heavy presence was also beyond her view. Then something touched her mind, searing her with the clarity of thought that it triggered. It was the dream again, the dream from the other night.

_A careening Starfury with a deep angry muffled voice, "Not like this, not like this…", and it was immobilized by a cascading tractor beam._ She screamed a name, as the dream went on. _Then the nightmare world materialized, the spiders, enveloping the crying Minbari toddler. Her round little eyes were cobalt blue and tear-swollen, her pudgy little thumb disappeared into her mouth. "Tishe…"she sniffled plaintively, "mama". __Do as we say and your daughter will live long and healthy__, the shadows whispered like rustling leaves at her elbows and in the shivers of her spine. _"KURAAAAAL!" Havah screamed, mired in horror and imposed slumber. _Her daughter or her people. I will follow you into fire, I will follow you into darkness, I will follow you into death, _her dream-self thought._ She could not betray her teacher or her people, they had all trusted her. So did her daughter. The child was her world and she could not watch the spiders devour her daughter. Action formed before thought as she felt her hand drag the knife across her throat._

And the dream ended as it had before, with her writhing and gasping awake, but this time still bound to whatever device the aliens had strapped her to. The ominous presence was fading, like a passing lantern in a night forest.

_What are you?_ She thought, _Did you do this to me?_

**An electron does not question, **it thought at her and vanished as if it had never been there.

_What the hell does that mean? _Were the Minbari even aware that it had been there? Maybe she had imagined it? The grey-cloaked crowd was in disarray. The male interrogator began yelling. She had no idea what he'd just said, but the earlier unflappable arrogance had been replaced with a tenuous note of uncertainty. He was shaken by something, something about her. A gray robe left, and a few moments later, a door across the room irised open sending a shaft of light briefly across the sea of shrouds, and the gray robe and another Minbari male entered. It was a telepath. She could tell by the way he approached her and by the intensity of his eyes. Almost immediately, he sliced into her mind before she had time to flinch away. Fighting against the intrusion only gave her a bone-crunching headache, as though her brain were about to explode. And it didn't do any good trying to struggle around the mass of presence that gripped her mind, only show her how truly helpless she was against him. Within seconds, she lived the entire nightmare again in fast-forward, and hated this intruder with every fiber. She felt him withdraw, hopefully soaked with her ill-will. His eyes were wide and startled. He turned towards the interrogator and said something in a tremulous voice, never taking his eyes off of her. He and the interrogator went back and forth for a moment, and the others gasped at something the telepath said. A brief discussion ensued. And then he sent a single thought at her, laced in respect, an apology.

_Drop dead, and get the hell out of my goddamn head!_ She thought savagely at him, _and I hope you can hear that too!_ She thought, far too furious to be pacified. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

The interrogator spoke, and whatever he said shocked the telepath who looked up briefly before casting his eyes downward. The telepath paused, and when he looked up at her again, there was chagrin in his face as he thought to her. _I know you hate me and I do not blame you. I am afraid that you will hate me no less now for what I have to do. I am ordered to erase your memory, and I cannot disobey. But I give you my word that I will not harm you. Please forgive me and do not fight me in this, or it will be more painful. I do not wish this for you. It is the only way they will let you go. I am sorry._ His regret washed through her. She eyed him stonily for a second, swallowing dread before the familiar psi-tongue slid into her mind. Instinctively, she hurled her mental will against it into the grip of another splitting headache, and was pushed aside into a gentle peaceful sleep.

As the Triluminary glowed, any hope Koplann had harbored for dismissing what they had seen earlier, vanished like the oxygen of a destroyed Human ship. _Not another one,_ he thought. Delenn's piping voice cut across his dismay, needling him. "You see! It was not just the first one. This is the ninth one we have tested with the same results! These are Minbari souls, there is no other explanation, unless you wish to pull their entire fleet aboard!—"

He grimaced and glanced distastefully at the bound Human woman, who appeared to be mesmerized by the artifact. As he looked, she convulsed as though someone had shoved a rod in her spine. She was in the grip of some sort of hallucination, and then the name she shrieked made his blood freeze. "VAAALEN!" Her breath came in hoarse gutteral moans. She strained against the bonds, face twisted in anguish and fury, and then sagged, brow, head and hands twitching. They all watched as her expression became a mask of conflicting emotion, fear, sick rage, despair. The desperate sorrow in her voice vibrated through all of their bones like an icy wind.

Delenn moved closer to the woman in unconscious empathy as the figure suddenly jerked and began gasping for air with strangled cries. "KUUURAAAAAL!" Again, her voice and the name she uttered arrested the breath of the assembled crowd. The woman was leaking beads of water from her hairline, and it ran in rivulets down the side of her face and neck, as blood trickled down her forearms from the spots where her wrists were rubbed raw. Her breathing was labored and shallow. She was clearly ill, injured, or both. _How odd_. A chill ran through Delenn. This woman was a child really, painfully young by the look of the baby-fat still clinging to her cheeks. _They are sending us children. Are we doing any differently? How young are some of our warriors, this young?_

All of the blood had drained from Koplann's face as he watched this Human struggle. _That is enough, I am getting to the bottom of this. _He had had enough eerie unexplainable events to last him for the rest of his life. _If the Religious Caste wants to try to explain this one in ephemeral terms, then they can talk until they are blue for all I care, but I am going to find out just what in Valen's name is going on. _"Send for a telepath! We must know what just happened!" No one argued, and Morann went to find a telepath. He returned with a somber man. He got right to the task and easily slipped into the woman's consciousness. She wrestled him in her bonds, while he stood back and concentrated, impassive for a moment.

The force of her vision overwhelmed him, and he was sucked into the dream undertow. He did not understand the image he saw of the Starfury, although he had heard that a few Humans had been brought aboard. He did not understand the association she made between Valen and this other human pilot. How does a human know who Valen is, he thought uneasily. Then a dark world engulfed him, and beings surrounded him that he had imagined only in horrid tales uttered under the breath in vacant hallways. Mind-bending silhouettes with too many sets of glittering eyes and dead-season voices congealed around him in the black. His body shuddered involuntarily as the dread gripped him at the sight of the legion before him, myriad strangely-angled limbs, shifting like vapor in and out of sight. Before him in the center of this legion was a sobbing girl-child, no more than a few seasons, chubby cheeks tear-stained. The woman whose consciousness he was borrowing shrieked the baby's name and he could feel the murderous grief and knew without a doubt what he was experiencing. It was a Death Memory. Pulled out of the quagmire in the deepest most hidden layers of the mind, the soul could occasionally, with strong compulsion, remember the last experience before Going Beyond the Veil, especially if it had been a traumatic one, and he could not think of a more traumatic one than this. This was part of the lore of Valen. As was the custom with their people, Valen, as a leader and patron, had taken an aide to train, a young Warrior Caste woman named Turanni. She had fought at Valen's side, as his second-in-command. At the end of the war, her child disappeared. Against Valen's orders, she went to Z'hadum, the home-world of these demons, knowing she would find her child, and vowing in her anguish to kill every last Shadow if it took a thousand incarnations to do it. No one knew how the outcome became known, or if it was merely rumor, originating in a vacuum. But as the tale was known, she died by her knife, unable to betray the Minbari and refusing to watch the death of her child. In dream, the elegant Minbari dagger slashed into his throat and he jerked his consciousness out, while her hatred reverberated through him, for both the visions, and for him and his violation of her private horror.

He could do nothing but stare at the woman in front of him. Her disheveled black hair was escaping in damp loops from the tie at the base of her neck, and her breathing was so ragged he thought she would choke and expire right in front of him. But she glared defiantly at him and he swayed with sickness through waves of her anger. This woman was an incarnation of the disappeared Turanni. It was as simple and strange to him as this entire war with these intense Humans had been.

He turned to Satai Koplann, who had pulled his hood back and was standing out of view of the Human, waiting impatiently. "Satai," his voice trembled, still shaken by the epiphany, "This woman is an incarnation. I saw things in her mind that she could never know if she were Human."

"What did you see? An incarnation of whom?"

"Satai Turanni." The rest of the Grey Council gasped and began muttering. "I saw her Death Memory, Satai. I saw her and her child surrounded by Shadows, and I saw her commit suicide."

"No one knows for certain what happened to Satai Turanni, her body was never found."

"But this Human should never even have known this story, Koplann. How did she know even that much?" An elderly warrior named Lokat pulled back his hood, revealing a craggy weather-beaten face. "And we know from the Telepath's Guild that Death Memories are valid, they have been proven."

Koplann glanced at Morann who had also pulled back his hood. Even the young skeptic looked thoughtful. Koplann had demanded an answer from the universe and now did not like it at all. Instead of fewer mysteries, there were more. He did not like mysteries, or questions. He was just fine with the aspects of the universe that he could see, feel and fight. And he knew, to his chagrin, that the young telepath was right. His bones and the twinge in the pit of his stomach told him so, as he regarded this Human female, the damp black hair, the blazing eyes.

"Erase her memory, whatever we do, she cannot be permitted to remember this, same as the others." The telepath balked for a moment and then quickly looked down, thinking Koplann had not seen his reaction. Koplann ignored the young man and turned to the others. "Very well. We have the shell of Valen, and a late member of the first Nine exiled in Human bodies and desiring to kill us. What now?" He spoke dryly.

"I despise the idea of giving in to these animals, but we must stop this. The Humans will fight until they are all dead otherwise. While I would just as soon be done with the whole lot of them, if there are these incarnations among just nine that we selected, it is more likely that there will be others. It is simple statistics. We cannot keep pulling pilots aboard, there are barely any left as it is. They are running out of time. Our warriors are very efficient." Lokat growled in the general direction of what was left of the Human fleet.

"There must be a complete surrender, not just a cease-fire, as we have done! You would not agree to more than a temporary measure after you witnessed this switching of souls in the human, Sinclair. You wanted more proof, you wanted to test others. Now you have! You have your evidence, you have your answers! We must end this war NOW! We can impose conditions upon the truce. The Humans know that we could have wiped them out, but we must surrender! You have seen as well as I. Order the generals to stop, and we will draft our words to their government!" Delenn demanded intently.

Koplann scowled, and began to speak but was beaten to it by the younger Morann. "And what of our military, what of the sacrifices they have all made at our command, Chosen of Dukhat?" He sneered contemptuously. "You have never been at the helm of a warship as we have, never risked your own blood or life, never ordered men to die, excepting of course when you cast your vote to exact vengeance upon the Humans…which you then later withdrew, after the death of a few thousand of our warriors! You have never fought or bled as we have! How dare you demand that our soldiers now ignore their own blood and bow before these animals! Perhaps the Universe bore these 'incarnations' as Humans in punishment? Has that thought ever occurred to you?" There were shocked gasps, even Lokat and Koplann looked slightly scandalized. He had made a good point, but to speak this way about the deceased souls of the Nine…

Delenn drew herself up. "How dare I? You stand here and speak of the sacrifices of our warriors and in the same breath disrespect the sacrifices of Valen and the Nine, by insinuating their banishment! What matters is not why they are there, why their souls are now Human. It is Valen's law that Minbari do not kill Minbari! That is the law. It was barely excusable while we did not know, but now we do. We can no longer use ignorance as a lever to discard the law! And who are you to determine the reasons the Universe has placed their souls at such a pass?"

The fire in his eyes stoked only minutely. "A typical answer from a priestess! To elevate philosophy above the hard reality faced by our own dead and wounded. It comes far too easy for those who never experience 'such a pass,' doesn't it?"

"We will order our generals to surrender, Delenn," Koplann and Lokat nodded. Koplann glared at the incensed Morann, and addressed Delenn. "We all understand what is at stake here, but take more care about how you address your own peers. And take more care to think about the counsel of the Warrior Caste without casting our efforts aside so cavalierly…I would have expected more from the Chosen of Dukhat…" Koplann added sourly.

The warriors had agreed to effect the surrender, reluctantly. But as drastic as Morann's breach in etiquette had been, there was left a sense of discordance, of injury. The fracture of the Grey Council had begun.

Alone with the angry woman, the telepath gazed at her sleeping features in wonder. Her name was Havah Lassee, he had learned, a private in the Earth Force army. She was young. Twenty in Human terms, barely more than an adolescent. It seemed like soldiers were getting younger, maybe that was true of Humans as well as Minbari. _Or maybe I am just getting old,_ he thought as he looked at her. He knew she hated him, but he couldn't hate her. He didn't know what he had expected of Humans, but he hadn't expected her. She seemed so…normal, like any other Minbari female, except more obvious about her passion.

The door opened and a couple of attendants came in, placed a sedative mask over her nose and mouth. They weren't going to take any chances. Then they cautiously untied her, carrying her out on a gurney. He followed her with his mind until she was released into space, hoping she would be alright. He would never tell anyone, but having seen into the mind of a Human, even a Human with a Minbari soul, he was glad they had surrendered. As furious as the Warrior Caste were going to be, probably for the rest of their collective days, he was glad they hadn't annihilated the Humans. The Warrior Caste saw them as dangerous beasts, and maybe it was that which drew him. They excited him, their rawness. The Minbari were a passionate people, but not like Humans. There was a vitality, that made him realize after the Human prisoners were gone, just how utterly mind-numbingly BORED he had been. _They're one big bundle of nerve-endings trailing out all over the galaxy, constantly moving, like toddlers sticking their eager grubby hands into every orifice, turning over every star and poking at every sleeping demon, just to see how it will react to them. Testing limits. _He mused.

Havah awoke with a jolt as the Starfury attached a grappling arm to her ship and began towing her in to dock. By the time they docked, she was gasping for air, cyanotic and queasy. A medical team took her to Med Lab, after affixing an oxygen mask around her face. The doctor began examining her. She pushed aside the mask and tried asking questions, between wheezes.

"What…happened, sir? There was…no one…fighting."

He moved her hands and re-fitted the mask. "Lay back and don't talk. Your lung is damaged…The Minbari surrendered."

She tried to sit up and removed the mask again. "What? No…no one…told me!…Why did they…surrender…sir?…We…were all…dying…out there! Did…something…happen—"

He pushed her back down and put the mask back on, irascibly. "No, I don't know, as far as I know they didn't give a reason. Lay down, and stop taking the mask off!"

She lay back and stared at the ceiling. She was very happy to be alive. But that was so odd, it was as though a chunk of time were missing because a lot of important things had just happened and she didn't know what or how it had happened, or seen any of it. She was out of some important loop.

He spoke again. "What were you doing in a Star Fury in your condition? My scanner shows that you have lung damage, two broken ribs and the remnants of a concussion. They are about a week old, and while much of the damage is healing, you had no business being in the air. I'm going to find out who let you out and tear them a new asshole!"

Havah sat up again, horrified. "…No, sir…they were too busy! It's…not…their fault! They needed…all …the people…they could get."

"What I can't figure out is why you are even walking around. Your injuries aren't severe anymore, but…the rate of healing has been remarkable." After checking his instruments several times, he drew some blood and ran an antigen test.

When he returned, the mixed look of astonishment and annoyance had returned. "Private, you should be wearing a medical bracelet!…You have an unidentified blood type. What if you had needed blood and we had given you the standard Type O? Your blood would have coagulated in your veins! Does that sound like fun? You can only accept synthetic blood until we figure out what the hell to give you! And I'm going to have a talk with the entry facility about this."

She tried to say, "Yes sir." But he glowered at her when she tried to remove the mask, so she just nodded.

"How did you get these abrasions, on your wrists? They look like cuff-marks."

She just stared at him, blankly.

He ran the scanner again across her head, "There are still microfractures in the top layer of bone. It's possible that you could be sustaining memory loss from this. Your blood gases are giving me unusual readings too. I'm going to do a toxicological analysis. If something got into the air of the Star Fury, that could also cause memory loss."

After completing his exam, he left her on the cot, with the threat of restraints if she tried to leave before he declared her fit for duty. She recovered enough within a couple of days to be released to her quarters. The doctor gave orders directly to her new superior officer that she was not to return to duty until she had gone for a follow-up exam in two weeks. The orders did not include debriefing.

After returning to base, she was debriefed and then called to the central office. She had never sat in front of a general before. He stared at her with calculating eyes and cropped white hair. He gave her a patronizing smile that looked more like a grimace. He ordered her account of what had happened on the Line. It was now being called the Battle of the Line. And he listened with growing consternation.

"Is that all, Private?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't remember anything after your ship was hit?"

"No sir."

"As you must know by now, the Minbari surrendered. They never gave a reason, but they did tell us that they encountered a few of our pilots. You were one of them. They assured us that you gave them no information. But they surrendered shortly after this exploration into human anatomy, and I would very much like to know why, and what happened up there. They informed us that your memory of the ship was erased for security purposes, but that nothing else was done. If there is anything that you can remember, it would be helpful. I would also urge you to submit to a telepathic scan for these memories. I don't trust these people, and neither should you. We need to know everything we can about them."

Cold clammy stones filled her gut as she listened, both at the prospect of having been examined by these aliens, and by the idea of having another telepath rooting around in her mind looking for things she wasn't sure she even wanted to remember. So that is what happened to her. Her wrists had been tied. _This must be how date rape victims feel when they wake up and discover that their shirt is on inside out, _she thought. Swallowing more stones, she said, "Alright sir, I guess it would be ok."

"Good, I'll arrange it and let you know. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," she uttered miserably.

She underwent a scan, and even consented to a deep scan, which was of course, fruitless. The block was too strong and well-placed, and she left the room with the telepath, feeling more uneasy about her amnesia than when she first learned of it. She had also been forced to relive the death of her ersatz squadron, Donaldson, Chin, Geezus, the others. It was all slowly sinking in. There were a lot of people that she wouldn't see again. It had all happened so quickly. Her limbs were too heavy and all she wanted was to sleep for a year and wake up with everything as it was before the beginning of this week. But it wouldn't happen. People were throwing parties and celebrating the end of the war. And she would love to have celebrated. Normally she would've gone to the parties, played and lost all her money in poker, but nothing felt right.

_I'm going to bed_, and she cried herself to sleep.

The doctor looked at Havah's blood again. How strange. He sent a sample to one of the doctors in xenobiology. They had all kinds of blood types there. One of the xenobiologists unboxed the sample and began testing it. It didn't fit any of the blood types of known races, Centauri, Narn, none of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, no one. There was only one type he hadn't tested yet. He accessed a few small samples of Minbari blood.

A guard walked in, preceding an officer, and the Med Lab doctor looked up, and handed him Havah's blood sample.

"Is this all of it, Doctor?"

"Xenobiology was the only place I sent it to, yes. May I ask what's going on, sir?"

"No, you may not. Thank you, Doctor, that will be all."

Havah was called in to her new superior's office the next day, and couldn't believe what she was being told.

"Discharged? Why, sir?"

"It's an honorable discharge, Private."

"But, with all due respect, sir, there were other soldiers who were wounded worse than me. Why are they letting me go?"

"I don't know, Private Lassee, those are my orders."

"Thank you sir." There didn't seem to be anything more to ask. Well, she'd go to college sooner than she thought. She admitted to feeling somewhat deflated now, though. The war was over. Unless they picked a fight with someone else. She had three more years left to her tour of duty, and she was just getting used to it, and now, she was out again.

"Private Lassee."

"Yes sir?" She turned, in front of the door.

"It's been an honor serving with you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir." She left and began packing.

22


	2. Chapter 2

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 2: A New Friend

Class let out late and then the train was late, and so she tried to make up the time, nearly getting hit by a flyer crossing 42nd Street just before the light changed. The driver yelled a juicy invective at her and she flipped him off before sailing around the block on her roller-blades. _I LOVE NEW YORK_, Havah yelled in her head.

It had been almost four years since the war. After her discharge, she had enrolled in school and was now finishing a bachelor program at Hofstra University, and working part-time at the New York Research and Development Institute, annotating social science articles, for eight bucks a pop. Things had begun to look up. She still felt a dullness in her when she thought about the war, so she didn't think about it much. She had tried seeing a counselor, but found that it didn't help much to talk about it since it didn't change anything. The counselor had told her that it would help to grieve and express it, but all she felt anytime she had gone into a late-night crying jag, was drained. She had talked to some of her friends at school about it when they had asked, but she always felt it made them uncomfortable, and so she mostly only shared the worries they all had in common, grades, romantic prospects, rejections. She hadn't been thrilled with her face before the war, but now with the current xenophobia, she felt her possibilities dwindling. She turned the corner and froze.

At a parked flyer, there were two men grabbing items. The passenger-side door was open and there were still boxes of merchandise inside. She was fairly sure neither of these men were the driver, or the intended recipients of the boxes. She started rolling up to them and they saw her, uttered a couple of expletives and tore off around the block. She skated to the corner where she again almost got hit trying to follow them. After the stream of traffic, she had lost them, and decided that it was not worth it. They had dropped a figure and she picked it up and scooted back towards the car just as the owner ran out. It was an out-of-breath Minbari. _Great_. She stared at him coldly.

"Is this yours? Those guys got away with a few of them." She handed the figure to him. He took it gratefully.

"I know," he stopped to pant, "I saw from 14th floor, this lift did not arrive quickly so I ran down stairs. I saw you chase them away…Thank you." His accent was so thick she could barely understand him. It took a moment to sort through the thick syllables.

"You're welcome. I'm guessing you've never been to New York before."

"No, this is first time here, first time actually off-world. I…how to say…I apprentice and selling, sorry, my…my Human, no, English not so well, sculptures."

_Geez, shouldn't he know the language better if he's trying to sell things in it? Nope, you know what, it's not my problem, _she thought. "Did you leave your doors unlocked? _Why am I asking, I don't care!_

"Um…yes, I guess I shouldn't have done this." He looked sheepish and began turning red, glancing up at her and down at his feet.

_Boy, you just fell off a hay truck, didn't you?_ "No, not if you actually want to have anything to sell. I don't know what it's like on Minbar, but here you don't leave your car doors unlocked or you might as well put up a neon sign saying 'Steal my crap.'"

"Yes, I…I forgot, I not used to locking doors, at home. There is little crime."

She didn't know why, but that got her. "Well, you're not home, you're halfway across the galaxy in a strange place selling things to people you wanted to kill four years ago, so one would think that you would have thought first to learn our language before you try to foist your wares on people you don't know, and second, learn something about the places you're going. You're not the sharpest pencil in the box are you?" The words that spilled out of her mouth shocked even her.

He looked like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. Staring at his feet, he mumbled, "I…I sorry. I…not mean to anger you. Thank you for helping me. I go now." He began shuffling about in his car, moving boxes.

Suddenly, she wanted to cry, and he looked like he was about to. She stood there for a moment, not sure what to do, wanting to change things and take it back. _This poor schmuck just traveled across the galaxy to a place where he has to know there are plenty of people who hate him, and he was probably never even involved. He's never even been off of Minbar, that much is obvious, and probably comes from some backwater town no one's ever heard of. That takes chutzpah. It would be like holding Joe from the Seven-Eleven responsible for the war._

"Hey, you know what, I don't know why I said that, it was unbelievably rude. I'm sorry."

He blinked up at her like a kicked puppy, from kneeling on the back seat of his flyer, hands in a box. "Oh, no, I understand, we…" He hesitated, unsure of how to say anything without setting off her tongue again, and straightened up, still struggling with words.

She resumed her thought, rescuing him from the moment. "No, no you don't understand. You see, I fought in the war, and I saw you, the first Minbari I've seen since then, and it came out all over you. That wasn't fair. Look, I didn't mean what I said, about your level of intelligence, you just didn't know. New York can be rough, even for Humans, if you've never experienced a city like it before. Are you from a city on Minbar?"

"No, I from a village called Jaruni in middle of Karinel Region. It not small, but it…it…is…not like this…" He gestured grandly around him, eyes full of awe. Our cities are beautiful, carved of crystal, Tuzanor, Yedor, Turil. But this…is exciting! Even if things get stolen…" he nodded regretfully. "Thank you very much for what you did, and I…am…sorry about the war. I glad we try to peace."

She couldn't help it, she burst into laughter at his odd speech pattern, and he looked at her, puzzled by her response. "No, sorry, it's just, I'm not used to the way you speak English yet, and it sounded funny. You're glad we try to MAKE peace, or HAVE peace. Peace isn't a verb." she smiled at him. "I don't mean to be rude correcting you or anything, I just figured you'd want to know."

"Oh yes! I…am…not so well at languages. I think that maybe I am slow, it has been a month and I still have great difficulty, especially when I arrived, people spoke so fast, and the accents…are hard, they are all so different, and there are so many different languages, not just English."

"…A month!" Havah squelched a surge of envy, flabbergasted. His awkward manner had made her impatient, but he had learned English more than passably well…in a month. "Uh…I don't think you're slow, dude, not if you learned English in a month and can speak it in New York City. This is a tough town to speak English in. We're not the most patient people in the world, and we speak fast. It's not exactly the place to go if you're looking to ease into Human cultures or languages. You have to hit the ground running here, but you do get a ton of it in a very short period of time. The only other language I know how to speak is Hebrew, marginally, and that took me most of elementary school. Most of the other kids were Orthodox Jewish, spoke Hebrew and Yiddish fluently, and I could hardly keep up. I'm getting the impression that most of the galaxy, except us, places more of an effort on learning other languages. We just figure that we'll get by speaking English because it's such a wide-spread merchanting language." She didn't know why she was sharing that and regarded him with scrutiny, his up-swept gray headbone, wide gray eyes, aquiline nose, _not bad really._

"What is 'dude'?"

"Oh sorry, it's colloquial English, you know colloquial, slang. It's just a casual term for guy." She grinned.

"Oh." He grinned. "What is 'Orthodox Jewish'?"

"It's a religion, sort of the religion I was raised in, except we weren't Orthodox. Orthodox means really strict, by the book."

He tilted his head and gazed at her with fascination. "You are religious? And you are also a warrior?…That is very fascinating. I heard that Humans do not have castes."

"Well, some of our cultures do, like the Hindus and actually, my culture does, but people who are not Orthodox don't abide by it much. They may keep track of it, but that's it. It doesn't really dictate social patterns anymore. Our Temple was destroyed a couple thousand years ago, and never rebuilt, so there's really nothing for our priestly caste to do."

"Oh,…" He looked befuddled. "Why was it not rebuilt?"

"That's a long story, anyway, I never introduced myself, my name is Havah Lassee." At the sound of her name, his eyes widened even further and his look deepened from innocent interest to respect.

"My name is Trell, of the family of Tokar. It is honor…AN honor to meet you. I did not know who you were."

Now it was her turn to be curious. "What do you mean?" She glanced at her watch, _so much for getting to work soon_.

"Oh, well, you are known to my people. You are Skywalker, yes?"

She almost choked. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh yes, you were at Proxima Three, yes? You dressed up as one of our warriors and killed many of them, and then blew up one of the transports? And on the Line. Yes?" His voice grew tentative at the mention of her actions, unsure whether this would offend her.

_Oh crap, they knew about that, how the hell did they know about that?_ "Uh…yeah, that was me. I don't know how…how did you know about that? Do…do your people call me Skywalker? That was the name a friend called me a few times. He was kidding. It was a joke. It's a character from an old sci fi movie…Never mind."

"Oh…Yes…I did not mean to offend you, it is easier to remember than your name was. And our people very much like poetry, Skywalker seemed appropriate name for fighter pilot."

_You have got to be yanking my chain_. She was stuck between an overwhelming urge to snicker, and a shudder at the very twisted irony of parallels.

"So…so how again did you say they know about that?" She had to know.

"The Grey Council learned about all soldiers they captured during last battle. It is said that this is why they ended war. The Warrior Caste was very…how to say…outraged." His speech became less ordered as he became uneasy at the mention of the Warrior Caste and the war.

"Yeah, I bet." _Well, I won't be going on vacation to Minbar any time soon._ There was a hot coal in the base of her throat, and she didn't particularly like talking about them either, so she changed the subject. "Well, I need to go to work, and I know that you have things to do as well, so…it was…nice…meeting you. I hope that you have better luck in New York." She realized that she meant that, he seemed like a nice guy.

"It was nice to meet you too, Havah Lassee of New York." He extended his hand hesitantly, "Is this right custom?"

She shook his hand, his grip was strong and warm, his hand roughened with work, like a Human's. He said, "You are…you are friendlier than I thought your soldiers would be...I mean..." His fair skin mottled as he struggled with words that obviously hadn't come out as he intended. "Thank you, goodbye." He turned, his face still flushed, and started unloading boxes.

She skated a few feet and then turned. _I'm going to regret this, but now he's got me curious._

"Hey, it just occurred to me that being in a completely foreign city, you might need to know good places to get food and lodging and stuff," _Especially since, it doesn't seem like you learned much about New York before you came here._

"Yes, very much! There is so much food everywhere, so many smells! I have a list of things I can eat, but I do not know what most of them are." He held a ratty paper out to her. She took it with a quizzical look. _Unbelievable_.

"So, when was the last time you ate, how long have you been here?"

"Since yesterday night. I have some food that was prepared for me before I left, but I want to try your food since I am on Earth!"

She looked at the list, the only things that didn't appear to be on it were the varieties of hot peppers, jalapeno, habanero, alcohol of any kind, and chocolate. _Wow, that sucks. No Mexican food, I guess._ _And definitely no tequila_. "Well, I'm going to the pizza place on this corner here, when I get out of work. I've eaten there a zillion times and they're awesome. It looks like you can have pizza and most Italian food, and you can't go to New York and not have Italian food, so I'd go there if I were you. I'll be there in about four hours on my way home if you don't want to eat alone."

His face lit up, "I would like that, yes!"

"Well, I'll see you then." She rolled off to work, intrigued. _I can't believe I'm meeting a Minbari for dinner._

At nine, she walked to Sal's Pizza, her rollerblades slung over her shoulder. He was standing nervously outside the door, trying unsuccessfully to blend in, as people passed him to the entrance, eyeballing him from his crest to his feet. His expression relaxed when he saw her, relieved, and gave her a wide grin. "I waited outside instead of inside."

"Yes, I see that," she mused, smirking. "A little nervous about navigating the crowd inside?"

"Yes, a little…" he admitted reluctantly.

"That's understandable, c'mon, lets get some food, I'm starving." He followed her in. A few people stared at him for a moment then returned to eating, talking, and bustling. The pungent aroma of garlic, basil, tomatoes and bread made her stomach almost leap out of her body onto the counter and demand to be served. She glanced at Trell, who was ravenously eying the array of pizzas behind the counter with wonder. A waiter led them to a table with a plastic red and white-checkered tablecloth, with shaker bottles of red pepper, garlic, parmesan cheese, and a long bottle of green olive oil. They sat down on the wooden loop chairs and took the menus. Trell's jaw almost dropped at the variety of dishes listed.

"Need a minute?" The waiter asked, the apron tied around his waist slightly askew.

"Yeah, thanks", she said glancing at Trell, who was studiously poring over the menu. The waiter plopped down two glasses of water and left. She pointed at the top of his sheet, "These are appetizers, these are classic Italian dishes, these are more regional dishes, these are pizzas, and these are desserts. Oh, and these are drinks. Would it just be easier for me to order for both of us?"

"That would be faster, I think," he smiled, still scanning the pages.

"Do you want meat, or no meat? Cheese or no cheese? Vegetables?"

"Um, yes, meat… and yes cheese, um, yes vegetables."

_Well, he's never had Italian, so might as well live it up for a night. _She flagged the waiter.

"We'll have fried calamari, and antipasto to start, and garlic bread with cheese. And a large pie with pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms."

"To drink?"

"I'll have a chocolate egg cream, and a vanilla egg cream for him."

Two egg creams with straws poking out of the top, appeared a few minutes later. Trell looked at the straw curiously.

"It's a straw. See, you sip out of it, like this." She took a slurp. He imitated her and broke into a grin.

"This is very sweet. It is called an egg cream? There are eggs in it, from what animal?"

"No there are no eggs in it. I don't know why it's called an egg cream, that's just what it's called. It's made of seltzer water, milk and chocolate or vanilla syrup, depending on the flavor. You can use the straw to see if it's made right too. See, the straw is supposed to stand straight up, that means the foam is thick enough." She stood his straw up.

He grinned and took a genteel sip as three gargantuan portions of appetizers arrived. Trell watched the food as it was placed in front of him, like an island cast-away seeing shipload of salted pork land on his shore.

"Well, dig in. This is the garlic bread with cheese, these little chopped bits are the garlic, this is mozzerella cheese, same as on the pizza. This is antipasto, it's basically salad, with a lot of other stuff in it, like different kinds of hams and cheeses, onions. Salad is a bunch of vegetables tossed together with some kind of marinade or dressing sauce. Like this marinade is oil and vinegar. Vinegar is sour wine, it's not alcoholic, don't worry. This is calamari, it's squid, one of our sea animals. And you dip it in marinara sauce, this red stuff. Like this." She popped a wad of tentacles in her mouth. He picked up a crusted ring, dipped it gingerly, and ate it. The transformation on his face was priceless.

"This is delightful! What kind of animal is this again?"

"Squid. It's a sea animal about this big with tentacles on this end and a cone on this end, and it propels itself by squirting water out of its butt, well, not really its butt, but a hole in this end, so that it moves backwards. We cut them up and fry them, see, this ring is part of the cone, and here are the tentacles," she pointed as each one disappeared into the bowl of marinara. "I hope that doesn't gross you out."

"What is 'gross out'?"

"Disgust."

"Oh, no. No, not at all. We try not to kill frivolously, but we are…what is word…omnivores, both meat and vegetable matter? So the preparation of food is what it is, we accept it and thank the animals in a ritual. Yes, we have similar animal in our oceans. But I do not think that they taste so well, well or good—?"

"Good."

"As good as yours, with this…marinara? There is so much flavor!" He marveled. "What is 'butt'?"

"Your ass, rear-end, the part of your body you're sitting on right now."

"Oh," he blushed crimson, and smiled beatifically.

She watched his reaction. _Mental note, these people must be very modest, or repressed, or both, or maybe he's just shy._

The pizza arrived, but there was no room on the small table, so she split the garlic bread onto each of their plates, and the antipasto and gave the waiter the dishes. The huge tray emanated heat and garlic.

"Tray's hot." The waiter edged it into the middle of the table amidst the clink and clatter of dishes.

"This is pizza. This cheese is melted mozzarella, parmesan, same stuff in here, she tapped the shaker bottle, and romano. These are mushrooms, sausage, and pepperoni. She pulled a stray oily disk off and ate it. It's spicy. When your thing says you can't eat peppers, what does it mean, like any at all? It just occurred to me that there might be some capsacin oil in pepperoni. I'm not sure. That's the oil that makes habaneros and most of those peppers hot. I didn't even think about pepperoni."

"Well, our food is generally not very spicy, there is nothing in our regional foods to compare to your hot peppers, except terkala beans. These are grown along the equatorial band. The Warrior Caste relishes them, I think mostly to demonstrate bravery and strength." He made a face. "They are like solid fire. The warriors like to boast about how many they can eat without ending up in the…lavatory?"

"I see." _So jocks are the same everywhere in the galaxy then. They sound like Marines._ She thought of several of her friends.

"I believe that when our people tried your peppers, they became ill in the same way as terkala beans. We can eat them, technically yes, but they are not good for digestion. They are too spicy."

"Ah, I see, well, those peppers have the same effect on Humans often, but people who are accustomed to spicy food don't have as much trouble with them. I suppose that if you are used to bland or mild food, that it's not good to load up on hot stuff. The pepperoni, should be ok then. A good indicator if something is going to give you a stomach-ache is if it is uncomfortable for your tongue, it ain't going to get any better on the way down." She plopped two dinner-plate sized pieces on each of their plates, pepperoni oil running off of the floppy tip. "What about alcohol? How come you can't have that?"

"Well, that is much more serious. We cannot…metabolize it? It becomes a neuro-toxin. The first sign of…toxicity is an uncontrollable tremor. Then, an equally uncontrollable rage, a …psychotic reaction, very violent. I believe it has to do with an imbalance of…neuromodulators? The final stages are seizure, coma, and death."

A cold hand reached into Havah's chest. "Well, no beer for you then…That's ok, I can't drink either. Weird. When I was a kid, my parents didn't know and gave me a sip of Shabbat wine. They finally got me to the emergency room with the help of three EMTs after I kicked in the family room door and started having convulsions. They were in the emergency room for several hours with me. My temperature had gone up by a couple of degrees, and when the whole thing started, I couldn't stop shaking. I kept dropping my fork. The doctor told my parents that it was a toxic reaction. He said if it had been more than a sip, I would've died. It happened again last year, when I was at a party. I accidentally picked up someone else's cup. The soda looked the same as mine but this one had rum in it. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my life, outside of the war. So, I'll be keeping you company."

He was listening intently.

"There were other odd things too. Apparently, strychnine has no effect on me. When I was a kid, maybe three, I stayed over a cousin's cabin, and he had a bag of pellets to keep mice out when people were using the cabin. Well, the pellets are sweetened with sugar to get the mice to eat them, and I love sugar. I saw where he put them and climbed up and got them. I thought they were little crunchy candy balls. Well, the next morning he found the bag opened and followed the little trail of pellets, and found me sitting under a tree, happily munching away, both fists full of rat poison. He FREAKED OUT, and grabbed me and emptied my hands. At this point I was hysterical because I didn't know what was going on, I thought I was just in trouble for eating candy when I wasn't supposed to. He called the poison center, and they told him bring me in. Well, at the doctor, he found out I'd been eating these pellets for three days, and hadn't been harmed. The doctor told him that because of my physiology, the strychnine didn't appear to be poisonous, but that it still probably wasn't good for me. He stopped using rat pellets after that. I look back on it now, and it's hilarious, but he didn't think it was very funny at the time."

Trell looked at her in amazement, while trying not to pull all of the cheese off of his pizza in one bite. "No I do not imagine he would…Is this not usual for Humans?"

"No. My father wasn't Human, just my mother. I don't know what he was, no one ever found out." For once, she didn't mind telling someone about her parents. Despite the fact that this was a Minbari, he was also alien, and so whether she was Human, or some other alien, it made no difference, she was going to be foreign to him no matter what. There was interest in his eyes, but no uneasiness. "So, I've been talking my head off, and I still don't know hardly anything about you. You're an apprentice, in what?"

"I am…sculptor. Jewelry, stone, metal, crystal, and structures for buildings sometimes, and now I am trying Human figures."

"Wow, so you're an artist."

"Yes. My teacher is Seral. She is one of the greatest sculptors on our world right now. She is on the Council of Caste Elders." He beamed with pride, "Although I do not know if I will still be an apprentice when I get back if I continue to lose my things," he said ruefully. "She would like to have come, she did not want to send me alone, since she knew I had never been off our world, but she was kept at meetings and could not get away to come with me. She very much wanted to see Earth, and so I promised her that I would be alright and that I would take back pictures to show her Earth. I hope that she is not disappointed by my errors."

"I'm sure she'll understand, and you can take lots of holos to show her. Take holos of the Statue of Liberty. Are you going anywhere else on Earth?"

"Yes, in a couple of days I am going to Greece to view some ruins, stone work. A place called Corinth, Mycenae, and Athens. And then to Italy and France. There are stone creatures called…gargoyles, on some of the churches that I would like to see…Gothic architecture? And I would like to see the…basilicas, and the Vatican. After that I am going to Egypt, to Cairo to see the Great Pyramid, and then finally back to this continent to see the other pyramids, on the Yucatan Peninsula, and in…Machu Piccu, in the land of the Incas? Your world is so variety-?"

"Varied?"

"Yes! Varied! Our culture has variety depending on Caste and region, but it is nothing like your world! We have one religion. Each of our Castes has a language, and there are differences in…dialect from area to area, but they are all from the same root language. And if you know one, then you will understand at least a few words from another. But here! Amazing!" His description faded. "And yet, you all fought together. This is great strength…And it is so INTERESTING!" He finished, glowing with admiration.

"Well, thanks. I'm glad you like it here so far, in spite of almost getting yourself mugged." She shot a sly grin at him.

He turned red and smiled into another faceful of pizza. "And I very much love this food. I think that I will go home a great deal heavier."

"Speaking of which, do you want to get dessert? There is tiramisu, which neither of us can have, spumoni, which is a type of Italian ice cream, gelato, which is more flavors of Italian ice cream, cannolis which are these cream pastries, and this layered chocolate cake, oh that's right, you can't have chocolate. How come?"

"It is a…it alters perception."

"Like how? Is it a hallucinogen?"

"In great amounts, yes. In small amounts, it still alters judgment, like the effect of your alcohol or…marijuana, on Humans."

"It makes you stoned?" An evil part of her really wanted to order the chocolate cake just to see what he was like lit. "How do you know so much about Human drugs?"

"I read a lot about Humans on my homeworld."

"So…you didn't read about how to be safe in a big city, but you read all about our party weeds? Very cute. Good job! You'd definitely fit in at my college. So, is this going to be where all the Minbari go to buy bongs? Are we known as Drug Central?"

He squirmed and laughed. "No, it is just so fascinating. We very seldom take substances to alter perception, except hal'chi, which is more like your alcohol. When we do take these perceptual trips it is usually within a ritual, well…among the religious caste anyway. I guess my caste and warrior caste are little more…liberal in our consuming of hal'chi."

"What is hal'chi made of?"

"An alkali plant, very bitter until it is processed and sweetened with kulda, a berry juice. This adds to its…properties."

"So what caste are you then?"

"I am worker caste. Most sculptors and builders are worker."

"Hmm. What if you decided to be a painter or go back to school and be a scientist?"

He gave her a blank look. "Why would I change my calling?"

"I don't know, don't people ever get bored or want to do more than one thing?"

"Well…yes, I suppose. We can sometimes change castes if our heart calls us, but it does not happen often or easily. If we are meant to a calling, many of us, especially worker caste are satisfied and happy in our calling, so there is no need to change."

He still looked puzzled by the question. She ordered them spumoni and big fat flaky cannolis, with cream puffing out either side. If he was going to all of these other places, he should load up on New York fare now. She had the waiter doggie-bag the rest of the pizza and told Trell to take it for tomorrow or a late night snack. They were both stuffed by the time the check came.

"It's on me, Trell," she said as he went to look at it.

"On you…I do not understand."

"I got it, I got the bill."

"Oh!…Oh, no, that is not right, you have been so kind. I cannot let you, it would be dishonorable."

She didn't know what to say. If this was some cultural more, she didn't want to insult him. So she tried one more time. "Are you sure Trell, it's no problem, I mean you can consider it your welcome to New York."

"That is very nice of you, but you have already welcomed me and helped me, and now it is my turn to give you thanks. You are the first Human who has really spoken to me at length."

"Well, ok…then…thank you! I enjoyed talking to you." He was more vulnerable than she had pictured her first peace-time encounter with a Minbari would be. She found that she really did like him. "Well, here's my number on Long Island, if you find yourself in the area, give a call. If not, here's my email, I'm not terrific at responding, but if you want to write, I'll try to write back."

"Thank you Havah, I will. Here is my home information. If you ever come to Minbar, I would be very happy to see you!"

The waiter came, and took care of the check, and Trell responded with "Thank you very much, dude!" Havah stifled a snort. The waiter stared at him for a second and then repressed a smirk.

"No problem, man." He said and left. They walked out and Havah began putting her blades on to get to the train station.

"Havah, what are those?"

"Roller-blades. They are sort of recreation, sort of transportation."

"May I look at them?"

"Sure." She handed him the one she hadn't strapped on. He inspected it, with his nose up to the wheels, spun the wheels and gave them back to her.

She continued, "Mine are really old. They have much newer fancier versions of these, some don't even have wheels, they have jet or air propulsion, but these were less than a credit at the thrift store, and they'll do." She finished, picked up her backpack. "Hey, Trell."

"Yes?"

"No offense or anything, but when it comes to traveling, you're not really with it, so lock your doors at night, don't let your stuff out of your sight…and watch your ass, ok? You know what I mean? You seem like a nice guy, but there are a lot of Humans who are still angry and they might not ask questions. I'm not saying to be paranoid, just be aware of your surroundings, and if something feels wrong, it probably is."

He looked sad. "I understand. Thank you, Havah Lassee. I hope to see you again." They parted and she headed for the station.

13


	3. Chapter 3

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 3: The Station

Life at Babylon 5 was never boring. There were 20 million teeming forms of life, not counting the ones big enough to see. Epidemiology there was a challenge during the most calm of times. Not only did Havah have to contend with the usual Human-borne suspects of all varieties: various food-borne illnesses, salmonella, staph poisoning, Norwalk-type virus, ecoli, hepatitis' A, B, and C, favorite oldies like influenza, multi-drug resistant tuberculosis, and various stubborn sexually transmitted diseases, syphilis, antibiotic resistant gonorrhea, HIV, as old as Human history. But in addition, she now had to track various alien-borne viruses, food-borne outbreaks and occasionally a vector-borne disease called catarka, in the Centauri tongue, since it was transmitted by Centauri vole. They knew there was an outbreak coming when annoyed technicians began finding dead voles in the air ducts. The bug kept them on their toes, waiting to buzz pest control with the first sign of a vole invasion. It was capable of crossing a number of species, Centauri, Narn, Human, even Minbari and a number of species from the non-aligned worlds, and it wasn't the only bug capable of crossing species. Some of the battle was anticipating the likelihood that alien viruses would cross other alien or Human viruses, replicate, and produce newer, more virulent strains of virus, resistant to both species' immune systems, or to drugs. Like good old influenza. Boy, there was a joy. Instead of a defined influenza season, there was year-round surveillance due to the fact that it was a port of call, there were at least ten species of alien susceptible to the flu, with a similar pathology in all of them, except that since winter occurred at different times on most of the home-worlds that these people came from, it could pass through their neck of the woods at any time! The potential for a station-wide outbreak was always present, and one of the more annoying threats was not that it was more severe in symptomatology for some of the species, although this was certainly true. It was that Med Lab could easily be overwhelmed by hundreds of coughing sneezing, feverish, aching, runny alien noses, wherever their noses might be. As the "baby epi," it was one of her duties to assist in communicable disease surveillance. It was an entry-level position, but since they were an understaffed and small health department, contracted by Earth Force, her surveillance spanned the gamut of diseases and approaches, from the old behavioral intervention specialist activities used in the heyday of the HIV pandemic, to the classical John Snow infectious disease tracking methods, foodborne-outbreak questionnaires, etc. And in addition, the department also had to collaborate with station military personnel in the matter of emergency management, bioterrorism preparedness, OSHA regulation, environmental and occupational epidemiology, accident rates, Workman's Comp and other more bureaucratic matters.

Which is what brought her to this blasted and horribly frustrating meeting with Commander Sinclair, his public information officer James Hauth, a federal stuffed shirt named Oren Zento, and Havah's fiery-tempered supervisor Carmen Santana. Carmen, she insisted that her employees call her by her first name, was a matronly Puerto Rican woman from New York, which was probably why she didn't rub Havah the wrong way as she seemed to do with some others aboard B5. About 5 foot nothing, with unkempt dark hair streaked with white, often in a house-dress, she was matronly in the sense that she would send anyone home with containers of chicken mole if she heard a sniffle or cough in the office and call fifteen times an hour to make sure they were alright, and was equally likely to chase someone down with a wooden spoon yelling at the top of her lungs if she was unhappy with them. There was no need to guess about what Carmen was thinking, ever. She was the most straight-shooting person Havah had ever met, to the great exasperation of both Oren Zento and Commander Sinclair. But her homespun style and lack of tact had always been tolerated, barely, by both the CDC and Earth Force because she was a crackerjack epidemiologist, a thorough scientist, and very often right when they were wrong. And they knew it, a fact which was also probably being rued by all of the men in the room, Sinclair, because she bore bad news and he had no idea what to do about it, Hauth, because it meant more public commotion that he would have to assuage, and Zento, because that meant that she had a strong voice with OSHA and there was a better chance of intimidating an angry army of Narns than intimidating Carmen.

Havah glanced over at Sinclair, the care-worn lines of his eyes deep with exhaustion and frustration. He was presently looking as though he was going to throttle both Carmen and Zento, who were animatedly trying to yell over one another. This was another reason for Mr. Hauth's presence, to keep leashes on the various angry contenders before the meeting could turn into a brawl. The dock-workers were on strike, and it was no surprise. Their equipment was sub-standard, their pay was a pittance to most other people who had to earn a living on an expensive station like Babylon 5, they had laughable benefits for union workers, and to top it all off, when a man was killed as a result of long hours and faulty machinery, there was no redress. Commander Sinclair's hands were tied, since budget allocations were set by the Senate budget committees, so that it was not allowed for him to borrow from Peter to pay Paul. And the Senate, in its infinite armchair-warrior wisdom, had sent this 'mediator' to settle the strike. Commander Sinclair had called this meeting with the hope that the report which the Epidemiology Department provided on the work-related injury rates among dock-workers, would compel Zento's office to give them more money. It wasn't working.

"The budget that we've prepared should account fully for all repair and wages! If it does not, then the money is being spent incorrectly! These rates are not significant!"

"Not significant! What do you know from significant? I wasn't aware of your degree in statistics, Mr. Zento! The OSHA guidelines specifically state that the equipment meet these standards listed," Carmen stabbed her finger at the lines of the document, "and our inspector found at least four violations in a preliminary visit!—"

"Violations which are the responsibility of the commander of the station to see fixed—"

"Which I could and would do with a reasonable budget, Mr. Zento!" That galvanized the commander. His peregrine eyes flashing beneath a glowering brow, "These men work long hours, unsafely-long, for barely enough pay to make ends meet, and their benefits package is worse than any of my lowest-paid men, and on top of that, the equipment they work with needs to be replaced rather than fixed. How do you expect us to fix these machines on this budget, with duct tape?"

"The budget we—"

"The budget you've prepared is wrong!" Carmen interjected. "It's one thing to sit on Earth and propose a budget based on inaccurate or theoretical information, it's another to try to impose that budget in reality after having been given real data that does not support your numbers!"

This was getting nowhere. Havah raised her hand. She knew that this was a school-kid tactic, but she couldn't think of any other way of getting their attention. She hated trying to yell over people. They completely ignored her.

"Guys…gentleman, and ladies," James Hauth spoke in his best "Let's pipe down" voice. "We keep getting hung up on this particular argument, 'this budget is wrong, no it's not.' Instead of continuing to argue fruitlessly, Mr. Zento, have you looked at their report yet? It was sent to you prior to the meeting, have you looked at it?"

"I flipped through it, yes." Mr. Zento's squinty eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, his lip turned up with an arrogance unparalleled by any but those in the budget committees of EarthGov.

Valiantly masking his exasperation, Hauth continued, "Well, Mr. Zento, maybe you should take some more time and read it, think about it, really consider the data we're giving you and we could meet again. These ladies are excellent epidemiologists and if they're trying to tell you that there is something wrong, I'd listen. And I helped the Commander prepare his estimate, so I know it's not off." Sinclair had done well to choose a public information officer with a knack for diplomacy, rivaling his own. James Hauth was also an imposing man when he chose: a six-foot five ex-Marine with distinguished salt-and-pepper hair in his mid-fifties with decades of public information experience, who could command a room full of belligerent and fearless reporters with the tone of his voice. Before Mr. Zento could protest, Hauth added, "And I believe that this young lady has been waiting very patiently to speak."

Carmen had warned her before the meeting, "Remember, you're an Indian, let the Chiefs do all the arguing. I don't want any of this coming down on you if things don't go well. You're here to learn." And yet, here she was sticking her two cents in. "Uh, well, maybe I could go over the points in the report. See here, this cell means that the number of work-related injuries went up in this quarter and in this cell are the number of machines requiring a service report and the .05 means that it is statistically significant, and in this 2 by 2 table are the number of work-related injuries and the numbers of hours worked per day, and that's significant too. And here are frequency tables indicating that both the incidence of injuries and the machines requiring service and the hours have all increased. See, we did a retrospective analysis of workers who have been injured or had incident reports with this machinery, and the odds ratio was that workers who had had an injury or incident report were 4 times more likely to have been working this many hours at this pay than workers not reporting any injuries. And the percent increase in injuries is this much higher than last quarter, before their pay was cut…see the incidence rate of injuries is this figure, and the incidence rate of injuries for these docks on these other stations and ports is this much lower, and their budget is this figure." She leaned across the table and indicated the tables, not registering the look on Zento's face, intent on the idea that if she just explained everything right…"So, that's why we're saying that there is strong evidence—"

"Miss, I am not an idiot! I can read, and I am telling you and your Department, that I don't care what your little tables say! The budget is what it is, and it is reasonable! And I don't need some careless student with a personal vendetta against long work hours to come in and blame faulty machinery instead of paying attention and learning to use machinery safely!"

She was aware that her appearance, since and even during her tour of duty in the Marines had been somewhat disorganized. Her hair was often ruffled, and her clothes wrinkled, no matter how crisp she tried to make them. Like Pig Pen from the Peanuts Gang had been with dirt, she was with wrinkles. It had been a constant source of push-ups and laps and other punishments. And she knew that the style of dress she chose, often made people think she was a "hippie". But here in this setting, she couldn't believe what she had just heard, and apparently neither could the rest of the folk in the room. Carmen was instantly on her feet, and Commander Sinclair and James Hauth had both gone bolt-upright in their chairs.

"How dare you!" Carmen yelled, "Havah is one of my epidemiologists, she isn't a pot-smoking student here for a class, she did a bulk of this research and it is sound research! Don't you dare try to intimidate her—"

"And another thing, Mr. Zento…" Sinclair's voice had gone deadly quiet, but it was a voice that could have cut through solid duranium alloy. "Not only is Miss Lassee not a student, but she is a veteran of the Earth-Minbari War. She fought on the Line, and at Proxima Three. Where were you? They came here to give you information that you should be considering, and I would recommend that you do not resort to insults again in my meeting room!" Both older soldiers were glaring at Zento intensely.

Oren Zento opened his mouth again to reply, but Havah cut in, knowing that this would be her only opportunity, all meekness gone. "Mr. Zento, Commander Sinclair is right. All you have succeeded in accomplishing in making such wildly inaccurate assumptions is to display your profound lack of professionalism. We came here to present you with the cold hard numbers, and the cold hard facts. Here they are, these are the incidence rates, this is the minimum estimate to fix these violations to the satisfaction of OSHA requirements. If these requirements are not met by this date, the station, and in lieu of the station, your office, will be fined this amount, which will cost you this much more money than providing a budget that would allow for fixing or replacing these machines or otherwise allowing for a safe working environment for these men. That is the bottom line." Her cheeks were burning, but she stood her ground and stared at him, her timbre even.

He leaned forward across the table, his pointy face twitching. "Are you threatening me, young woman?"

Before Carmen could lose her temper, Havah leaned back and said icily, "No, Mr. Zento. I'm not threatening you, I don't have any control. OSHA is the one who decides on penalties. I merely do my job and provide them with the information necessary to do theirs. If you don't like the information that we are giving you, then do something productive about it instead of trying to intimidate people who are simply being honest, and threatening anyone in your way."

She went to sit down, but Carmen stopped her, "Commander, there really is nothing more for us to do here. I recommend that we table this until tomorrow, and Mr. Zento," her voice was dripping with acid, "can either look at the data or not."

Commander Sinclair took a deep breath, "I agree, I have to see to another matter for now, but I will be speaking with Miss Connelly, the Labor Advocate."

Zento shot venom at Sinclair. "It will not change the decision."

Carmen made a noise of disgust, "Thank you, Commander, you have been very patient!" and walked out. Sinclair merely gave Zento a lidless stare, like a cobra, and Hauth stood up to get some air.

Havah followed Carmen out into the hallway, at which time Carmen shook her head and beamed at her, "I'm really proud of you, you did really well in there. I know you have a hard time speaking up, and I don't know if that was the wisest time to do it, but it was good. You can't let people get away with that shit. He didn't have the right to say that to you. I know you like to be soft-spoken, but sometimes you have to be assertive, and you did, you did great, I am so proud! And you were very polite about it too, I'm not so polite." Carmen said in a sardonic voice and swatted her on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "You just have to know how to navigate the system. You have to think about politics too, but you'll learn that when you're an old fart like me!" She grinned and laughed. "Well, I'm starving, let's get some lunch. I know you're poor, so it's on me. Come on, and you can fill me in on the syphilis outbreak."

She went to visit James Hauth to give him the weekly influenza report, as usual, and as usual, sat for about another half hour or so, just chatting. She liked talking with him, they were both avid fans of Rebo and Zootie, and the conversations usually started with them, and wandered to other topics, martial arts among them. He had taken Ai Kido, and she had taken kung fu and Tai Chi, and very much missed it. She had found it necessary to be away from her kung fu school and most of the friends she had there, in order to take the job on Babylon 5, and there was no satellite school under the same people here. There was one person aboard the station who belonged to the same network of schools, a fighter pilot named Greg Seymour, so they occasionally got together to practice, schedules permitting. But there was no one else she knew who shared this interest in the same way. Except James. He was comfortable to talk with and a wealth of information about Earth Gov, Earth Force and a number of other things she found fascinating. This time they discussed the meeting.

"How'd you like that meeting, that was great, wasn't it?" He crossed his eyes sarcastically. "What'd I tell you about some of these people they send, 'Don't confuse me with the facts, my mind's made up!'"

She laughed mirthlessly. "I don't understand why they're like that. What makes them pick a number of dollars and stick to it and refuse to budge from it. I know they must plan it out in some fashion so it can't be arbitrary, but why does it always seem like it has to be written in stone. Maybe I just don't get budget stuff, it's not like I'm a whiz at my own budget." She grimaced. "It just seems like if it we don't give people enough money to do their jobs, then things are going to get done either half-assed, or not at all. You can't expect people to work for that."

"Bingo, you got it on the nose, but you're trying to think logically, they're not. They have their constructed bottom line, which is based off of information that they have compiled back home, for what they think are similar operations at home on Earth. Except it doesn't work the same out here. But a lot of the people in charge don't want to lose face at a certain point, they have to be right. They can't have a Commander that they didn't want here, and a few epidemiologists pointing out their errors."

"They don't want Commander Sinclair here? Why?"

"Ohh-ho, he is not well-liked back home. First of all, he speaks his mind, he's brutally honest, although he is diplomatic about it. But he's not malleable to their agendas, and they really want someone who is. Second, they don't trust him, he was on a Minbari ship, and he was requested by the Minbari to this post, above higher-ranking officers. I can tell you this because it isn't classified information, and most of it you know already, because you were there too." Her eyes widened, and he reassured her. "Don't think that doesn't make them nervous. It's different for you though, you aren't in the service anymore. Also, they don't have as much control over you, and Carmen is very good at protecting her people. If they tried to get you fired or laid off, Carmen would be down their throats, and she's more trouble than they want to deal with. You don't have any power, so they're not concerned with you, but Sinclair…He has the potential of being very influential right now, more than he knows, and things are changing back home. People are getting more and more xenophobic. I don't like the feel of things back home right now. It didn't used to be like this, and I think it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. There are some very ugly politics going on. Just be glad we're out here, although I think it will come here sooner or later. Just keep your ear to the ground."

She looked thoughtful and didn't say anything for a moment, and he added. "Zento, that little you-know-what, is going to pull the Rush Act."

"What's the Rush Act?"

He tinkered on the computer for a moment and pulled up a file. "Here, the Rush Act states that it is the duty of the commanding officer to use any means necessary to end the strike…" They read in silence for a moment, but her eyes kept returning to that phrase, "any means necessary…" So did his. "That seems awfully vague," she said.

"It is. It's legalese. That language deliberately uses generalizations so that they can go back and change things or reinterpret them, and then make revisions. That's why the administrative code gets revised every 5 years or so."

"So can anyone interpret it the way they want?"

"Well, it has to be defensible in a court of law, but if you can get a lawyer to defend it and win…" They looked at each other.

She began carefully, "He can't re-allocate the budget right, that's against the rules, but it's his responsibility to end this strike, so his back is against the wall. But maybe it's not, maybe this is a loop-hole. If he is required by his military duties to do whatever he has to do, maybe that releases him from constraints that normally bind him, and powers that he doesn't normally have can be at his disposal. It doesn't specify what means he can or can't use. So maybe this can clear him to re-allocate the budget? Do you think he would want to do that, is there enough money elsewhere?"

"I know for a fact that he wants to do that, he's been griping about the allocations since he got them." He grinned slyly. "I don't know if this will fly, but I'll run it by him and see what he says. We'll have to check with the station attorney before doing anything to make sure he can back us up if we decide to run with it. We'll try anything at this point. I'm glad we pulled this thing up and looked at what it actually said. As always, it's fun working with you!"

"I guess I better get back and do some actual work before Carmen starts thinking that Zento caught and shoved me out of an airlock."

He laughed, "I think it is more likely that he'll be the one to wind up out an airlock if he keeps up the way he's going with the Commander. I was getting ready to knock the three of them out and lock them in a padded room together with three sets of boxing gloves. I'll let you know what the Boss says after I talk to him later."

"Cool, thanks." She returned to her office.

The Commander wasn't sure about the idea, and unfortunately, neither was the attorney, since there were members of the Senate involved in the decision. But the next day, there was a soft chime at her door. She pressed the lock and the Commander was leaning on the lintel outside.

"Hi, are you busy?"

"No, no! Please come in. She gathered a mound of communicable disease reports from the chair and dumped them precariously on top of another ungainly pile in the center of her desk. She sat down to pay attention, and realized she couldn't see him over the top of the swaying pile, and pushed it gingerly to one side. This unbalanced the pile and there followed a cascade of paper, which they both tried unsuccessfully to catch.

He helped her pick them up, trying not to laugh rudely. "A little busy maybe?"

She sighed, "More horribly disorganized than anything else really."

He laughed, a deep resonant laugh, an almost familiar voice, a very familiar voice really. His dark eyes and the shape of his jaw were familiar too. He had been present at a couple of emergency management task force meetings, but she hadn't gotten a chance to consider his features much. There had just been this niggling sense of recognition, like the Actor Game she always played when she was watching a vid, to the annoyance of everyone else watching. She would see an actor or actress' face and try to name all the other things she had seen them in before, and would occasionally get stuck on a familiar face with the name and where she had seen them before, hovering just out of reach in her brain. Ultimately, she never forgot a face, ever, she thought with pride, and it would come to her…probably at three in the morning in the middle of a deep sleep. The place where she had seen him before would just be there without effort. In the meantime, she peered at him as the memory slipped around like a handful of eels through her mental grasp.

"Are you alright?" He asked, at her look of concentration.

"Oh yes, Commander, I was just wondering if I'd seen you before. I've been thinking that your voice was familiar since I met you at the emergency management meeting a while back."

He looked thoughtful. "I've been wondering the same thing. I know you were on the Line, it's possible that we encountered one another back in one of the docks…Anyway, I know you and James Hauth are buddies so you probably already heard, but I just thought I'd drop by and tell you that we went through with the idea. I let Zento have his Rush Act. Be careful what you wish for, you know. So he ordered it. Garibaldi and half of security were down there expecting a riot, and just when Zento was licking his chops waiting for the blood, I told them that they'd get their new machines and better pay from the defense budget, because the Rush Act allowed me to do whatever was 'necessary' to end the strike. And then I told Zento where he could stick his objections. The attorney wasn't sure we could get away with it, and ultimately I'm fairly certain it will come back to bite me in the ass. There is no way they will let that solution slide for long. It's too soft for them. So this Act is only a stop-gap measure, but there were no better ideas."

She didn't bother smothering a snicker. "Wow, so what did Zento say?"

"He blustered, as Garibaldi put it, like Yosemite Sam, for a few minutes about our not getting away with this, but there wasn't anything he could really do. I'm pretty sure there are going to be some angry calls from certain Senators waiting for me by tomorrow, but…" He shrugged. "It's over for now, as far as I'm concerned. If they have a problem with the budget, they can come down here and try to fix it themselves instead of sending a 'mediator'. Anyway, I wanted to tell you guys. I'm always running around and so it's harder than it should be to get my attention, but I didn't want you to think that your suggestions or work was unappreciated. I'll send an email to your supervisor telling her that too."

"Thanks, Commander! I grew up in a family of Jewish lawyers, and being a student for so long, I got used to being poor and digging in the sofa for spare change, so I guess I just figured that this is a much bigger sofa." She realized too late how ridiculous that sounded. But he burst into a belly laugh and his face lightened.

After catching his breath, he said, "That's it, next time some diplomat complains about the size of his quarters, I'll just tell him to dig under the couch! Ehehehe." He tapped the lintel with his palm. "I'll let you get back to work, Miss Lassee. Thanks again."

She watched him go before shutting the door. _He really is a devastatingly good-looking man, isn't he_, she thought, _a bit older, but at least he's mature, and dark, just the way I like 'em. NO, nononono, never get involved with people at work_, she shook herself out of reverie and returned to the database.


	4. Chapter 4

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 4: Fringe Element

Tension pulsed off of the walls of the station, vibrating across the gulfs between people like radioactive waves, electrons pinging against one another with the force of a swarm of wasps. There had been a hate crime, against an alien, a Minbari, and the most likely suspects were Human. Station security was nervous because of the implications for mob action, the alien races were nervous because of the uncertainty of the attack in all facets except one, that they were attacked because they were different. The command staff was nervous for similar reasons as security, except that they also knew how fragile and vital the peace really was here at this place in the middle of a barren solar system, and what it would mean to fail, with a dozen or more ambassadors breathing down their necks. And Havah was nervous too, sensing the precariousness of the moment, not wanting the home she was tenuously making here to be uprooted, and because she was alien too, and no one knew. At least not the wrong people, she hoped. For the sixtieth time that day, her hands drifted to the ridge at the top of her nasal bridge and rubbed at the odd color of her fingernails, and thought of the blue birthmark disguised as a butterfly tattoo where no one could see it. It was coming down on them, the aliens, for the way they looked, the way they walked, the way they talked and thought. And every corner or spot of shade now seemed wrong and threatening to her. Humans were so varied, and there wasn't a Human alive, she thought, who had not known the fear of persecution, or who could not have cited a not-so-distant ancestor who had. _Why then are we unable to move past it? Do memories of terror and compassion fade so quickly? I guess so_, she thought sadly and put out the lights, on her way to Med Lab. The woman who had been attacked, a Minbari poet named Shaal Mayar, was sitting up on her cot getting ready to leave, as Havah walked by to look up medical charts.

Ambassador Delenn was with the woman, speaking familiarly, and she sounded angry. "I spoke again with Commander Sinclair, and he has assured me that the persons who did this will be found. I informed him that such treatment of you was completely unacceptable!"

The woman silenced her with a tired gesture. "It's alright old friend, I am fine, and it is a valuable lesson. I wonder sometimes, having seen more of the galaxy now, if we have been too sheltered on Minbar."

"Yes, perhaps, but still, to treat someone who wishes to share a great art, with such hostility and disrespect is most dishonorable!" Delenn insisted, shaking her head.

Shaal Mayar sighed lightly, "Oh Delenn, we are used to _tilah_, and used to our ways, but you cannot expect others to know or understand them right away. You have known them all of your life, and have known nothing else, and the others have known nothing but their own ways. Do not be so demanding of them. I'm sure that the Commander is truly doing everything he can. He is a good and honorable man."

Delenn smiled graciously and touched the woman's arm, "I suppose you are right. You have grown into a wise poet over these years, as well as a moving one." At that point, Shaal Mayar glanced at Havah, who had been standing there watching the scene, medical charts forgotten. She was fairly certain, with Delenn's annoyed glance, that she was being rude to have intruded on this conversation by her presence, but it was too late.

"Hi, sorry. I just wanted you to know, Miss Mayar," she had no idea if this was the proper address, "that I saw your performance. It was beautiful. I'm sorry for what happened to you, and I hope that you don't think that all Humans will react this way to you. Sometimes it does just take people time to get over the past. Anyway, I have to go. I wanted to tell you that, and I hope that if you still go to Earth, that your trip will be better than your stay here has been." She said quickly and began walking away.

"Young woman, wait." Shaal Mayar called after her. Havah stopped and turned toward the two women. Mayar continued in a gentle voice. "Please, I thank you. It is a kind thing for you to say, and I am very glad that you enjoyed last night. I did not mean for you to be offended by our concern. I have had many good experiences with Humans, and we do not even know for certain who has done this. Even if it should be a Human, I know that Humans are all different and that a small fringe of people do not express the feelings of all, any more than is true for my people." Mayar smiled at her, glancing at Delenn.

Delenn was looking at Havah intently, studying her face.

Havah struggled not to squirm. She wanted instinctively to like Mayar, but the Minbari ambassador made her nervous. That woman had another voice that Havah kept wanting to remember from somewhere else, and on top of that, she was overbearing. _Old Money_, Havah thought. She didn't know if there was such a thing on Minbar, and she didn't even know if that was the case with Delenn, but that was what irritated her about the ambassador. She exuded demand and the expectant demeanor of someone who has existed her whole life in privilege. In her experience, such people were often thoughtless of everyday realities, the realities of the rest of the plebian galaxy, just as Delenn was demonstrating now in her dealing with Sinclair. _Where does she get off! _Havah thought protectively. _He always does everything he can. He's not your damn servant to order around, he's trying to keep everyone safe! If you really want to help him end this quicker, stay out of his face!_ But she smiled stiffly at the ambassador and nodded to Mayar. "Yes, ma'am, that makes sense." She replied, unsure what to say now. She really didn't have anything else to say.

But Mayar continued. "We have not been formally introduced. My name is Shaal Mayar. It is nice to meet you…"

"Havah, Havah Lassee."

Mayar's eyes widened for a moment and she glanced at Delenn and back at her. "Oh, yes. I apologize…I did not expect…It is an honor to meet you. How long have you been on Babylon 5?"

Havah paused, and then ignored the strange reaction. "I don't know, about seven months or so. I'm not great at keeping track of time, and without seasons or real daylight, it's hard to get a real good grasp on how much time has passed. It's nice to meet you as well, Ambassador Delenn." She forced out.

The ambassador gave her a curious look and bowed her head slightly, smiling imperiously.

_Bitch!_ Havah thought vehemently. _Stare at me with that silver spoon, looking like I should feel graced by your presence!_ She didn't know why she was feeling such strong antipathy towards this woman, who probably wasn't even thinking anything at all except concern for her friend and her people. Havah turned her attention back to Mayar. _Say something, anything, I gotta find a way to bow out of this conversation and go home._ "You're a great poet, have you ever heard of Shakespeare, or Wordsworth, or Tennyson?" _Nope, that wasn't it, now I'll be here forever._

"Ah, Human poets yes? Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred… Yes, a great poem, a warrior's poem…Wordsworth, The world is too much with us, late and soon, getting and spending we lay waste our powers…" She crossed her hands over her heart, "Very wise men, these Humans. Many Human works have been inspiring mine of late. That is why I chose to go to Earth, in addition to our recent alliance. I wished to acknowledge the debt I owe them for my most recent poems." She said excitedly, her enthusiasm picking up the momentum that only artists in the throes of the Muse could radiate. Her eyes shined, and Havah couldn't help but smile back with real warmth.

"I'm glad you like our poetry, I suspect that many Human poets will derive inspiration from your works too. Cross-pollination of idea is always exciting. My dad is a doctor, and if you get him together with another doctor, it doesn't matter if they are from Narn, Centauri, or some other world all the way across the galaxy, you might as well pitch a tent because they'll be there all night, engrossed in talking medicine and ignoring everything else around them." She said wryly.

Both Mayar and Delenn laughed. Havah had never seen Delenn laugh before, not that she had seen her that often. She just didn't usually have an expression on her face conducive to laughter. Delenn's shrewd blue eyes relented. "Yes, this was true of my father as well. He was a scholar, and he often talked all night after Temple." She seemed to be cheering up, the lines of concern in her face had less of an edge, as did her voice. Havah studied Delenn's face. Havah didn't know what the habits of Minbari females were, but Delenn had applied cosmetics in quantities that reminded her of a young girl experimenting with her mother's make-up. Maybe make-up was strictly a Human trait. She hadn't really paid much attention to alien female faces before, and it occurred to her that Delenn was trying out different Human customs. It didn't look that bad, just a little garish, like a kewpie doll, but she had no idea how to bring up the subject. _Not my problem anyway_, she thought.

"You look tired Miss Lassee," Delenn said.

"Yeah, it's been a long day, I'm sorry to keep you from your visit, it was nice meeting both of you. Take care." They said good night, and she left, wondering if "Take Care" had been the best choice of words at this time. This attack was turning everyone inside out, making every comment and gesture questionable. _Damn that's irritating_.

It didn't get any better the next few days. There was another attack, on aliens again, Centauri, this time on two children. They were older children, a moonstruck adolescent couple that had been eloping, but children nevertheless. Now the boisterous Centauri ambassador, Londo Mollari, and his hapless cherub-like assistant were shouting up and down the halls, only out-shouted by the Narn ambassador, G'Kar, whose people hadn't been attacked but who was taking the opportunity to make as much noise as possible, playing the injured party. She had seen Londo Mollari in the stripper bar, and in the casino, gambling and drinking and shedding astounding amounts of money, his unbelievably loud voice carrying through all sound anywhere in vague earshot of the casino. He seemed like an amiable enough fellow. Insane, but amiable. She thought of the ambassador tossing back probably his hundredth brevari as if it was water, and bellowing jovially around the black-jack table, like a bizarre drunken Santa. The Narn ambassador she didn't like so much. He was very nearly as boisterous, and not nearly as jolly, and she could have sworn the few times she had run into him, literally, that he had been hitting on her. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and he looked to be nearly 300 pounds of pure muscle, so that was that.

She saw the two Centauri kids in Med Lab on another med chart run, with Shaal Mayar hovering like a worried mother off to the side. If Havah hadn't known better, she would have thought they were Human, so Human was their facial appearance, more than hers really. The girl's attention and wide brown eyes were fixated upon the teenage boy in the cot.

"How are they?" Havah asked the Minbari.

"The boy has not regained consciousness yet, and the girl is frightened for him. So am I. Have you learned anything else, has Sinclair found anyone?"

"Not that I know of, I'm sorry, I don't know very much either."

Shaal nodded at her. "It's all right. I was just hoping that someone knew."

Havah hesitantly put a hand on the woman's shoulder, glanced at the poor Centauri girl, decided not to disturb her, and went to finish her work. "If I hear anything I'll let you know."

_This can't keep up like this,_ she thought. _Someone, maybe Sinclair, probably Security Chief Garibaldi, is going to crack. And I'm tired of looking around corners,_ _wondering who knows about my genetics. I took for granted most of my life, that it didn't matter. When I was a kid, I got made fun of for being different, but those kids would have made fun of me no matter what, even if both my parents had been Human, and they were just kids._ Kids like that had never done any damage, but this…this was real hate and it scared the hell out of her. She had been just as sheltered as Delenn, having never faced such strong emotion. War-time was different somehow, wasn't it? She brooded, staring at the pages of her book without seeing the words. _You hate your enemy, and their differences from you, but only because the differences are something else to focus on. The real root of hatred of a war-time enemy is that they are obviously trying to kill you and destroy what you value. You tell yourself that your hatred is only the instinct for self- and species-preservation. Maybe there is no difference between the two situations,_ she thought, _only that here, the racial differences take on too heightened a significance, and the instinct to preserve one's own kind becomes distorted through perceived rather than real threat, insidious rather than apparent._ She shook her head and returned to her quarters. _What next_?

There was a message that a package was waiting for her. She went to the postal line to pick it up. It was from her mom. She opened the brown paper and out spilled about twenty of the usual newspaper articles on anything under the sun that her mom thought would vaguely interest her. Havah figured that her mom didn't realize that they had newspapers in space too. A note fell out among them, and there was a small paisley cloth-bound book with rolled-up sketches. The note read: _I found this going through our closet, since we are moving to the new house soon. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you this, you should have had it a long time ago, but your father and I talked about it and we wanted to wait until you were a little older, and then you were so unhappy growing up while we were moving so much, that we felt that it would upset you more. And then we forgot about it. Again, I'm sorry that you didn't have this sooner. Please don't be angry with us, and write or call when you get this, so that I know it got there alright. It would also be nice to hear from my daughter every once in a while, I am just a Jewish mother after all and I worry with you being so far away. I know you are busy, and so I don't mean to bug you, just drop a line._

_Love, Mom_

Havah sighed and ran her hands through her hair, several gray hairs, which she was sure were courtesy of mom's positively masterful guilt trips. _Mom should have been on the Line_, Havah thought, _She could have leveled the entire Minbari fleet with the sheer subtle power of one guilt-evoking look_. _Maybe that's why they surrendered…I guess mom is right though. I was pretty bitchy. And 'out of sight out of mind', although she made absolutely certain that that didn't happen, calling at two in the morning on a weekend. "Oh, I'm sorry…I forgot about the time difference."_ Havah laughed. She did miss them, in doses. There was a picture of her dad too, with his fly-away white mad-scientist hair and his perpetually confused look.

_P.S. By the way, your father has lost so much weight, doesn't he look great! He's been working so hard at it, and now his back doesn't hurt any more. I stopped making him chulent, it's too high in fat._

His sizable pot-belly was mostly gone. She chuckled_, I think she stopped making him chulent because she hates chulent._ She thought longingly of the thick stew with the crispy fat crust around the edge, her mouth watering. She brought the package to a table in the food court, began leafing through it and froze. It was her mom's diary. Her real mom, a woman she had heard about but never met. She grabbed her food and returned to her quarters.

She opened the front cover gingerly, and stuck underneath was a picture, of her mom. She had been gorgeous, with the exotic features of the Turkic, Dravidian, and Semitic peoples of the fertile crescent, long thick straight raven-black hair, olive skin, enormous eyes, gracile bone structure as elegant as the Arabian horses that carried many of the princes and warriors of their folk tales. Her eyes, though, were not black like Havah's, but blazing gold like an eagle's, shot through with deep green and ringed around the edge of the iris with black. Contrasted with her dark brows, lashes and skin, they were amazing eyes. And there was an interesting blend of humor and gravity in them. _Why couldn't I have looked more like that_, Havah thought ruefully of her sturdier build. She unrolled the sketches.

They were sketches of a person who could only have been her father. They were dark, dramatic drawings, even in faded graphite, and remarkably skillful. The image she was staring at almost gave her a heart attack. It was a real-life bust of a Minbari male, with the blackest, most intense eyes she had ever seen, with a square jaw and powerful build. The bone crest wreathing his pate was unmistakable, as was the slight ridge at his nasal bridge. She dropped the pictures and ran to the mirror, her fingers trembling as she touched her brow, her hair, kneading her scalp, feeling for any sign of a bony crest, tracing her ears which were slightly smaller and placed lower than other Humans. The breath rushed out of her in shocked sobs without sound or tears. Why hadn't she figured it out, at Proxima Three when she saw them, or any time since? What did they know about her, is that why they let her go?

She plopped down on the floor next to the diary and pictures, and unrolled them again. There were different shots of him, but each one was unquestionably the same man. This woman had been a very talented artist, or a very driven one. There were other pictures, full nudes that she simply refused to look at. This was enough of a shock without seeing either of her parents that way. There was a tiny name written at the bottom of one of the sketches, directly under, as if it were the name of the subject and not the artist's signature. _Neroon Calear. _His name, phonetically spelled. How had she sketched these? Based on what she knew of their dilemma, they had hardly had time for a posed art session. She began reading. The handwriting started shakily and then steadied, as though the writer's mental state had steadied as she wrote.

_3/3/32—The telepath just left after dissecting my brain with her telepathy, but I remember now. I'm going to write it down where I can see it and no one can take it away from me again. And I'm going to take the images from my eyes and put them on this paper so I can see them, so I can see Neroon. I remember him, I always did. I knew there was something wrong, I knew that they had to have done something to me. I'm pregnant, three months, and I know now that the baby isn't human. They did the same thing to him, but he has no outward sign, nothing to trigger his memory, nothing to even lead him to seek one. What else did they do to him, to me? Is he still alive?_ _What will my family think? What have I done to them? _Here there were water-stains wrinkling the brittle paper._ I guess I will start at the beginning. I stayed at this inn near the outpost of Zagros Four. I should have known it was an unscrupulous place. The door locked…barely, I probably could have broken it with my bare hands, and later that night I suppose someone did, or maybe they were in the room the entire time. I don't know which one makes me more frightened. I wish now that I had been a light sleeper, or maybe it wouldn't have mattered. I was so drowsy that night after I came home. The room smelled funny, like freshly-cut grass, but it was the middle of the city, and I thought that was odd. I heard and saw nothing, and woke up in a nightmare. Except that it was real. I lay strapped to a cold table with a bright halogen circle shining in my face. It felt like my head was full of molasses, and a long snaking arm with glittering instruments came towards me, like in a warped nightmare of a child strapped to a dentist's chair. A long needle went into my neck, and then I don't remember anything until I woke up. _

_It could have been hours or days later, I don't know. I was laying on a table. My _hijab_ and dress were disheveled. Most of the room was dark and empty, except for another table beside mine. There was an alien laying there. It was a male, HE was a tall male. He had no scalp hair. Instead, he had a bone protrusion, like a triceratops, ringing the sides and the back of his head. It had spiky-looking points jutting upwards at symmetrical angles. Other than this, he looked human, as much as I could see anyway. He was wearing a black tunic and pants. There were no restraints on me, and it didn't look like there were any on him either. He was still unconscious, or looked it anyway. So I sat up, fixed my clothes, and went over to him. I thought I should wake him up and see if we could get out of there. I touched his arm, and as fast as lightening he wrapped his arm against mine, pinning both of my arms against me and hoisted me up against the wall by my neck. He was very angry, shouting alien words into my face. I tried to scream as well as I could with him choking me and tried to knee him in where I thought his groin might be, but just as quickly, he dropped me to the floor, and stood back. I could see his muscles twitching. He looked astonished, at me sprawled at his feet, and began saying something in his tongue. He reached down and went to grab my arm, but I rolled back on my heels and backed towards the corner. 'If he touches me again, I claw his eyes out!', I thought. But he looked at me with head cocked, and held out his hand. His voice became gentle, and it seemed like he had thought I was one of the captors. Maybe he had never seen them either. I stood up, still not trusting him to get close and edged past him, watching him carefully. He gestured towards the tables and I sat down on one of them, and he perched on the other, trying to avert his eyes. My dress had torn, and I could tell by the way he tried to look away that he could and had seen everything. I grabbed the edges and yanked them closed. I didn't want any strange alien seeing me, and that aside, I was pretty sure he wasn't Muslim. _

_I tried to look at him without staring. He had obsidian black eyes, fairly large, and deep-set under a brow-ridge that came down to end over the bridge of his nose, making his eyes like a hawk's. His nose was short with a wide generous mouth and a strong, pointed chin, and square jaw. He was very handsome, even for an alien. His skin was fair, and his body seemed to be well-proportioned and certainly very strong and muscular. Then I noticed a red blinking light at his temple, just in front of the head-bone. There was some kind of device there, and I reached up and felt my own temple and there was one there too, just under the fabric. He pointed to my head, presumably to the device, and reached up fingering the small black object bonded to his. As I touched mine, he motioned as if to take the device off, and then everything changed. There will never be any way of describing exactly what happened then, or what it felt like to be in my body when it happened, but something turned on. Something in my head, like a switchboard that controlled functions of my body like a puppeteer working a marionette's wooden cross. And I could tell immediately by the mixed look on his face, that the same thing had happened to him. It was a surge of hormones, or something in people that gives them the overwhelming physical need to make more people. It was a total body response and it was immediate. I have heard that opium, and some other drugs create such a strong addiction in the receptors of the body, that the physical and mental need created is pure agony if the person addicted is deprived. I have heard that the nervous system is so dependant that it bends the will of the individual to satisfy the hunger, making the addict incapable of any thought beyond compulsion. Multiply that by a thousand times and you would have the force of the hunger that drew us across the space, across the cultural and linguistic gulf towards each other. His eyes locked on mine, betraying his need, as my hands landed on his tunic, pulling it off of his shoulders. His whole body shuddered and his face grew even more intense with the inner battle that we were both losing, and he grabbed both of my shoulders and pulled me into his powerful arms, his breath heavy against my neck. My addiction was as great as his, or we would have tried to pull the devices off of one another._

Havah stopped reading, she couldn't read this about her parents. Something in her forbade it. She skimmed a couple pages of detailed description of compulsive love-making and exploration of alien anatomy, and finally came again to a point that she could resume.

_I don't know how long we were locked in each other's arms, my fingers stroking the roughness of his bone crest. I reached for my dress, shamelessly strewn beside me, but he caught my hand and shook his head, stroking my hair. There was no sense of time here, but I smelled the grassy smell again, and the place we were in went away. When I woke, he was gone. My whole body ached from our activities. I could still smell him, and his absence was like fire in all of my nerves. I will never know if this was because I had never been with a man before, or because of the device, or if somehow, he truly was or would have been a soul-mate, trapped in an alien body. Maybe the body did not matter at all. I suspect that I will never know now. The next time I woke up, I was strapped to a horrible table again. I passed out, and when I awoke again, he was there, shaking me, except that I didn't recognize him, and he didn't appear to recognize me. There was a puzzled look on his face for a moment, the ghost of memory, but it dissolved. I know now, that our memories of each other were stolen. But, for whatever reason, pure honor, duty, lingering sense of desire, he sought me out and tried to help me escape. He kept trying to communicate although we had no language in common, except gestures. I jumped at first because there was blood on his clothes, which were different than the overcoat and tunic that I had first seen on him. This was a long gray robe. The clothing must have been from the aliens, and the blood. He unshackled my arms and legs and gestured me to follow him, tossing me a bundle of cloth. It was a long robe, like his. He looked supremely impatient as I hopped after him, trying to put it on as quickly as I could._

_We snuck through dim corridors and into a ware-house of test subjects, sentient detritus of all races, strapped to tables, in units against the walls. I couldn't count how many there were. We looked at each other in revulsion, separated and began moving down the rows and releasing them and shaking them awake. Some revived, others didn't. And others were too mutilated to be easily mobile. It is a sad truth that we could not stop to help them. After about five minutes, I smelled grass, only this time I knew what was coming. I held my breath and motioned to the others. And they all rushed to the door. It had already slid shut, and we were too disorganized, even en force to get it open. The bone-headed man who had freed me, now I know his name is Neroon, pushed through the crowd. He did not appear to be having as much difficulty with breath. His need for oxygen may have been less, or his lung capacity may have been greater. His strength certainly was. He wrenched a metal panel off of the wall with his bare hands! I could see the edges slicing gashes in his palms. He pulled out a bundle of wires and began testing them, shoving people back. Many of them had collapsed from the gas. I blacked out, and came to consciousness slung over the Neroon's shoulder. He balanced me on his shoulder and dragged one unconscious alien person, each by the hand, the blood from his hands smeared on their arms. In the corridor behind him, near the door, there were gray-headed alien bodies littering the door and walkway. Another tussle issued from the room we had just left. He dumped me to the floor and dropped the other two aliens. I was still half-conscious. He glanced at me, and slapped me harder than I have ever been hit. He did the same to the other two aliens who were groaning and waking up. As more of the strange grays approached, the three of us were getting to our feet, and Neroon who had been pulling me up, let out a battle cry that vibrated through every bone in my body like a flood of liquid nitrogen. As long as I live I will hear that cry in my nightmares. He systematically tore the grays ones apart, effortlessly. That was when I realized that they were the ones who captured us. A couple had guns and fired at us and the people we'd made it out of the room with. But, it looked like they were ill-equipped for any real combat, and apparently relied on gas and behavioral control devices to prevent uprisings. More grays came behind me. I have never been trained to fight. But I was tired and sick, and wanted to go home. I rushed at the grays and buried my fists into their faces as many times as I could. A strong arm snaked around my waist before I knew it and tossed me against the wall. Neroon indicated the dead captors behind him, and the ones I had been clawing. _

_He grabbed me and pulled me after him. The ship was in disarray, aliens of all kinds running everywhere. He paused for a moment and pulled me down another hall into a docking area. Escape pods. Some of the pods were gone but there were a few left. He shoved me into one of them, and began closing the door, but I grabbed his arm. He looked into my face impatiently. I tapped my chest and said "Fatima. Lassee." And then tapped him on the chest. Comprehension dawned, and he said in a deep voice, "Neroon me ahn shay Calear." The way he said it made me think that Neroon and Calear were names and the others were other words, maybe meaning 'from' somewhere. I didn't understand at the time why I did this, but before he could close the door, and probably to his great disgust, I grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him on the lips. He startled and almost snarled. Then his eyes softened and he ran his fingers down my hair, gave me a sad little smile and shut the door. I launched and a few hours later was picked up by a frigate. The alien science vessel did not follow the pods, maybe they were too damaged, maybe we were too inconsequential in the larger scheme. I thought I heard an explosion before Neroon closed the door. I hope he got out first. No one seemed to know what these gray aliens were. Nor did I know the name of any race with bony head crests. And all I have remembered for the past three months is the events leading up to our escape. When I learned that I was pregnant, I had to find out what else had been hidden. I hired a telepath to go into my mind and see if there were memories that were missing. There was a telepathic block, which she was able to remove with terrible effort. I have a nosebleed and I think maybe even brain damage, my whole left side feels numb, but I have my memories back. I never thought I would say this, but I wish I could see Neroon again. I could never be with him. He's not even Human, and it is very likely that we would not have been compatible even if he had been. But we are bound by this event, for better or worse. And his face is burned into my mind now, every black eyelash, every contour of bone, every sinew. I know the baby is his. She is a girl. I hope that if I write this down well, she can find him someday, and that he'll acknowledge her. If I record his face, she might recognize him, if they ever meet. I know that she was created as much by alien science as by us, and I know that there are some in my culture, and probably in his, that may believe that such children are _haram_, or worse, have no soul, but Neroon was a good man, and I believe that her soul will be a good one. She is a part of both of us. I hope that she will survive the pregnancy. _

There were more entries describing the process of her pregnancy, the strange life signs, the clinical data that she could discern as a lay-person. And then a final entry.

_8/8/32—This isn't going well. There are still two months to go and I've been sick now for three. The doctor thinks it could be an enzyme that she is producing which my immune system is reacting to. I wish my family was here, I'm tired of feeling sick. It is hard to get around. The doctor doesn't seem too concerned about my baby as much as he is about my health. I wonder if he thinks of her as a real baby because she is a hybrid. I think doctors like known quantities. I'm worried. If I am this ill, how can my baby be ok?_

Havah knew the rest of the story. Her mother had died of that toxic reaction, at seven months, which was when she was delivered. She had been mature enough to survive outside the womb, maybe due to a shortened alien gestation period, But she had been severely jaundiced and a couple of organ systems had been on the brink of failure, due to Rh disease. Her blood type and her mother's had not been compatible. She was kept in the hospital for two months, and then had been adopted by Dr. Lawrence and Rebecca Goldman, close friends of Fatima Lassee, and asked to be her godparents by Fatima, since most of her family, predominantly male, had been killed in the Dilgar War.She also had known that the Goldmans did not think they could have children. So it seemed right that she had gone to them. And then they had conceived another girl, when Havah was six, her sister Tovah. She had been raised with the name Havah Goldman, but when she reached adolescence, she had expressed a desire to retain her mother's name. When she joined the service, she changed it legally. It was not that she didn't love her parents, or appreciate being a part of their family too, she just wanted something of where she came from. Now she had it. They had told her about her mother, but it was different to read what had happened to them from her mother's hand.

She unrolled the sketches again, gazing at them, stroking the heavily drawn lines of his eyes as though they would begin to blink at her, wondering half-heartedly if the graphite strokes would shift and shimmer and the image of her father would move, take on flesh, and rise from the page, to tell her whatever he knew. Who was he? Was he a person anymore, or ashes drifting around the Minbari sun? What now? She harbored a dozen chilling thoughts, none of them resolvable. She didn't know what he did for a living, if he had fought in the War, like her. She could very well have fought her own family, killed her own cousin, uncle, father. He could have been the one responsible for blowing away everyone she knew. She had no idea how he came to be in the custody of the grays, he was likely to have been traveling. The Religious Caste didn't seem to travel much, so it was likely that he had been either Worker, maybe a merchant, or a Warrior, equally likely, judging by his clothing, and skill at escape and defense. When she had been a child, she had daydreamed about what her real father would be like. Like most girls she knew, she dreamed about being unknown royalty, like the lost Anastasia from the 19th century Russian Court, or Princess Leia from the old Star Wars vids. Now she just wanted to know if he would talk to her. _Funny how your perspective changes when you get older_. She didn't suppose he would, especially if he turned out to be Warrior Caste, in fact who knows, he would probably commit ritual suicide in the dramatic style of the old Kirasawa samurai, if that was the case. They were still enraged at Humans. It was also unlikely he even remembered what had really passed between himself and a Human, aside from an escape, not without the help of a telepath. And without some clue that his physiology had been tinkered with, he had no reason to employ one. He probably hadn't even known what a Human was at the time, and there was no reason for him to make the connection between a strange alien woman he had encountered thirty years ago, and the race who were held responsible for killing a great Minbari leader. She gathered up the papers laying before her and tossed them in a drawer, fervently wishing that she could imbibe alcohol. There was a part of her that was excited at the prospect of knowing more about her father, and renewed interest. She had some investigation to do.

She went to the Zocalo and ordered a hot chocolate, poured several packets of sugar into it and sat morosely. At least the perpetrators of the recent attacks had been caught, she had heard on the way to the bar. They had been escorted off the station as soon as someone could pick them up. The mood around her seemed lighter…mostly. The Narn ambassador and a Brakiri man approached the bar adjacent to her and called for the bartender's attention. _Beautiful_, she thought, swiveling her stool away from the two, breathing in the chocolate steam. They ordered drinks she couldn't pronounce and began talking with one another, oblivious or uncaring of any company around them.

"These Humans, T'aakla! The entire time, Sinclair claimed that the problem was being solved, yet refused to share any of the information about the perpetrators with any of us. He said only that 'They are being dealt with.' I tell you that they will not be brought to justice. They are Human and he will coddle them, excuse their actions and see that they are let go to commit more atrocities against the other races. I knew that this station was partial to Humans, run as it is by their government and their military!"

"I have noticed this. They did not seem to be overly concerned with the attacks, as much as with our knowledge of them."

G'Kar gestured grandly, "They are a strange race, we dealt with them a bit during the Earth-Minbari War. I understand that they were warned to stay away from the Minbari, and not only did they not listen, but they went out of their way to anger them. Like children, if one tells them not to do something, they immediately rush to do the opposite as they have been told, an immature, foolish race. Their women are strangely appealing, but considering the unattractiveness of their males, it is amazing that they manage to reproduce and stay alive!"

Havah had enough. It had been far too long a day, and she wanted to relieve herself by choking the spots off of his big bombastic head. She whirled her stool around, slamming the mug on the counter, sloshing hot chocolate, and glared at the back of his corrugated skull. "Ambassador G'Kar! Since you obviously don't care whether you are in earshot of any Humans, you are getting my opinion whether you want it or not, since I had to sit here on my precious leisure time and put up with yours! You bitch and bellyache about Sinclair not being concerned about the other races, but in fact, he and Garibaldi and the ENTIRE SECURITY TEAM have been doing nothing but busting their asses since this started, not even eating or sleeping, just to make sure that your royal diplomatic butts are safe! You talk about respect, but when you lump all Humans in with the lunatic fringe, only the most extreme segment of our population, you do us all great disrespect, especially the people who have been trying to help! You demand respect from others but you should remember that you get as good as you give! And YOU, you are an ambassador! You ARE supposed to represent your people, the best qualities of your people in fact! Is this how you wish us to view the Narn? Are arrogance, and lack of graciousness the best qualities the Narn people have to offer? Ambassador?…"

He had started yelling indignantly, but she had simply yelled over him. Now he just spluttered as she paused strategically for an answer. He straightened his spine to an even greater height, so that he now towered over her, at least 6' 3". His red eyes glittered. "The Narn people had enough grace and courage to overthrow the occupation that almost destroyed my world. If I am arrogant, it is well earned. Do not think to lecture me, young woman no older than a pouchling! You survived the Minbari, but I was fighting Centauri garrisons when you still sat at your mother's breast!"

Havah looked him up and down. "I'm sorry Ambassador, I wasn't questioning your prowess, but I found your comments offensive as a Human. And by the way, you don't need to find Human males attractive, we do. It's the behavior of males, in general, that we usually have problems with, Good Day." She didn't know what effect this would have on him, and didn't care. Bracing herself for a tirade, she turned to leave, but an explosion of hearty laughter enveloped her. "Well said, miss, but forgive me for saying, that is only because you have not found a worthy male!"

_Jesus Christ, I didn't mean to open up THAT can of worms_, she thought, rolling her eyes out of his sight. She turned, gave him a feeble smile and left. She didn't feel like being back in her quarters, so she retrieved a book and her now-cold food and went to a less frenetic area of the food court. She flipped aimlessly through a few pages, reading the same sentences over and over. She looked up in the middle of flipping and Ambassador Delenn was standing a few feet away from the table, like a silent mountain cat. Havah had noted that, as close as the Narns liked to stand to others, the Minbari preferred a greater distance. It was amusing to watch the Narns, Centauri , and Minbari interact. The Narns and the Centauri would be attracted to each other like magnets, yelling in each other's faces. When either the Narn or Centauri tried to interact with the Minbari, again it was like the game she played when she was a kid, taking magnets on their repellant sides and making one magnet chase the other one. She would watch the Narn or Centauri close the distance, violating the body space boundary of the Minbari. Politely, the Minbari would step back to where they were comfortable with the interchange. The Narn or Centauri would then feel uncomfortable with the distance and again close it, unaware that they had just made their audience distinctly uncomfortable. And the Minbari, desiring to be subtle and inoffensive would again take a step back. So, like repellant magnets, they would dance around the room. She wondered how long Ambassador Delenn had been standing there, watching her. "Can I help you, Ambassador?"

Delenn moved towards the table a couple of steps, the dainty periwinkle embroidery shimmering.

"May we speak? I do not wish to interrupt your meal."

"No, I was just finishing up, Ambassador, please…have a seat." She pulled a chair out with her foot and sat up straight.

The Minbari sat down primly, her hands in her lap, back rigid. She appeared to think for a moment, considering her next words. "I wished to speak with you after the conversation you had with Shaal Mayar. She thought very highly of you, and while it began as a private conversation,…"

_Perfect passive aggressive little dig, very skillful_, Havah thought,

"Neither of us wished to be offensive towards Humans. You must understand though, that this was most upsetting for us. She is greatly honored on our world, and the Minbari people are not accustomed to a great deal of contact with other races. We chose for many years to remain secluded in order to see to other matters. So this reaction to her, and to some other races has been…disconcerting. I understand however that the Commander saw to the matter, and he did what he could. You are close to him, yes?"

"Not really. I mean I know him, I've had conversations with him, and occasionally we work together, but I'm not more than a work associate, an acquaintance. He seems very nice, but he doesn't have much time for socializing. Were you referring to our work relationship? We are on the emergency management task force together."

"Emergency management task force?"

"Yeah, there is a system in place called the incident management system. It is based on a military model, and is used by civilian public service agencies when dealing with each other or with military organizations, in the event of a wide-scale emergency. On Earth, a national or international emergency deals with multiple agencies across both civilian and military jurisdictions, and this system assures that all of the agencies and military are on the same page, that they can communicate and mobilize effectively when needed. The field is called emergency management, and the task force is the local group responsible for making sure the system is in place with all of the local agencies and military. So the task force is composed of representative members of those agencies and military involved."

"Ah, yes. It is much the same on my world. The language of engineers…logistics…people who make resources, is always different from the people who use the resources and from the language of government. Each field has its own…lingo, even though they are all speaking Minbari. The engineers are required to have an understanding of the military structure and military operations so that they can carry out the instructions and see to the needs of our military in matters of planetary security."

Havah nodded. "Are you in a hurry, Ambassador? It's been a really long day, so I think I'd like to get a hot fudge sundae. Would you like something?"

"No…thank you. What is a hot fudge sundae?"

"It's a dessert. Ice cream with hot fudge all over the top. I have no idea if there is anything comparable on Minbar. It is very sweet."

"I see, do you order it from one of the restaurants?" She smiled, perhaps one of the first genuine smiles Havah had seen this woman crack.

"Yeah, that shop over there is an ice cream shop, they have their menu up on the wall behind the counter, and so you just tell them what you want and they make it up. Those refrigerators in front there hold the ice cream in big buckets. And then, you can't see it with the lines in front, but behind the counter they have vats of hot fudge, hot caramel, strawberry, blueberry, boysenberry, marshmallow sauce, and other toppings, like M&Ms, crushed candy bars and cookies, frozen fruit." She suspected that her answer had just spawned twenty-million more questions. Delenn looked at the shop and smiled almost demurely back at her.

"You wish to order a dessert, I would like to see this place, may I join you?"

"Of course! I didn't mean that I would cut our conversation short, but if you don't mind waiting in line with me, I'll be happy to explain everything you see."

Delenn nodded and followed her, watching people go by with cones and cups of ice cream. As they got to a point in the line where she could see what the ambassador was pointing at, she explained the different delectations squeezed, ladled, or sprinkled from various spouts or frosted tins. Havah ordered the fattest hot fudge sundae they had, at 'Here's the Scoop,' the only ice cream shop in the food court. They probably made a killing, because the queues were always yards long with both Humans and aliens. In fact, it seemed like more aliens were packed into lines waiting for ice cream every day. She knew, because she went there at least two times a week since she had been on the station, so reliably in fact, that the one day she had forgotten her credit chit, the guys behind the counter had told her they'd just ring it up next time she was there, tomorrow or the next day. She asked for two spoons and found another table. She gave the Ambassador, still insisting that she didn't need to intrude on Havah's meal, a spoon.

"No one eats ice cream because they NEED it, there is no daily ice cream requirement. We eat it because it's comfort food and it tastes really great! You don't have to try it, but it is safe for all known alien species, and I know you are curious."

"Are you certain? This is yours. I—"

"It's totally fine! I figured that you might want to try some."

"Well, I…perhaps, just a taste. Thank you." She scraped a tiny dollop of fudge and ice cream from the side of the huge mound. Her face changed instantly as soon as it entered her mouth, her eyes widening. Havah grinned.

"Good isn't it!"

"It…is delicious! We have various types of sweet…I guess you would call them puddings, they are often made from the eggs of the cheela, and the milk of the gorokna. The cheela are like your birds, and the gorokna are…ruminants, like your cows. But they do not have such a strong taste!"

"Please help yourself, Ambassador!" Havah nodded encouragingly, and dipped her spoon into the fudge. In the most stately manner Havah had ever seen anyone eat ice cream, the ambassador helped herself to another spoonful, and then a few more. The world became a little fuzzier and warmer after a few moments, and she guessed by the pleasantly relaxed look on the Ambassador's face that Delenn was sharing the experience. What Havah had conveniently failed to mention, was that fudge was chocolate. Her own reaction to chocolate had never made any sense to her even after talking to Trell about the effects, because she had never known her genetics. _Hindsight is twenty-twenty_. The two women sprouted wide grins and finished off the sundae, Delenn delicately placing the spoon in the plastic cup.

"So, Miss Lassee, what about today has been so long?"

Havah could think of a dozen things, but steered away from the thing that most impacted her that day, the journal. "Eh, Oh. Well, just work. There is a syphilis outbreak that I've been helping to investigate. That's a sexually transmitted disease among Humans, and some species of alien." Havah paused, waiting for an embarrassed reaction. None came, Delenn merely tilted her head and peered at her with interest. "And I've had to spend the past few days actually, interviewing people, trying to get contacts, who they've had sex with…" Havah had gotten so accustomed to talking about this, that she often shocked people outside of medical staff with her frank treatment of it. "I had to interview a few guys who have infected their spouses and now they have to tell their wives or girlfriends. I hate those interviews, I feel like such a home-wrecker."

"Why? Why would they do such a thing when they are joined?"

"I don't know, lots of reasons. They're mostly people in Down Below. They're not trying to mess up the relationships. Maybe they're trying to screw away some sense of impotence or powerlessness in the rest of their lives. I don't really know. It's not my thing. I wish we could get more to the bottom of that too. All we do is address the disease, not how and why they're susceptible to getting it." She stared morosely into the empty sundae cup. "And then, I had a not-so-positive conversation with Ambassador G'Kar in the Zocalo. It was mostly my fault, I butted into the conversation, but the stuff he was saying really pissed me off!"

"What is…pissed off? What did he say?"

"To piss someone off just means you make them angry. He was talking about how the Commander isn't concerned about the aliens on the station, only about the Humans, and then he made a crass comment about Human males. But what pissed me off is that Commander Sinclair has been busting his butt to accommodate everyone and catch the people responsible, and after everything I've been hearing for the past few days from people in Down Below, it really tweaked my knickers that he can complain, in a position of comparative opulence about something that is unlikely to ever effect him, and hasn't affected his people, while we can't even adequately take care of our own people. We haven't resolved our own social inequities and he's assuming that we all have the luxury of plotting the demise of others."

Delenn tilted her head quizzically again at Havah's run-away euphemisms, but understood enough. "I do not know about…tweaking knickers, but I do know that G'Kar is fond of complaining and making a great deal of noise when the opportunity arises. I understand your frustration at his insistence, and perhaps I have been guilty of this as well. I think that these recent events have made all of us lose perspective, and perhaps that is something that we can work on." Delenn's tone was conciliatory as she leaned towards Havah and nodded with a smile.

"No, sorry to soap-box and chat your ear off, I just got very frustrated. Sometimes it seems like nothing I do, or any of us do, is going to make a difference to anyone."

Delenn's face had grown intense, as did her voice.

"Never say this, Havah Lassee. It is not true that one voice or one gesture cannot matter. One pebble can make ripples that are felt by every living being, as great waves at every corner of a pond, or every corner of a world. Size and number do not matter, only the moment of time the stone falls into the water. Your voice matters. Do you understand?" Her eyes gleamed, her voice earnest.

"Sort of." Havah was uncomfortable with the sudden gravity of the conversation. She suddenly had the feeling that Delenn was speaking of more than her generalized attitude problem, as if Delenn were trying to have a conversation with her without telling Havah what it was about. "So, tell me about your homeworld. You must miss it. Do you get to visit often?"

A melancholy ghost passed through Delenn's face, and then faded before Havah had a chance to see it clearly. "Very much. Minbar is a beautiful planet. It is striped with veins of quartz and tourmaline crystal. So our engineers have built our cities into these veins, using the rock as building material. There are nights when the moonlight catches the spires and the towers glimmer, every roof and gutter sparkles as though the city were alive and fluid. And during the day, when the sun is at it's zenith, the monoliths look like liquid fire, casting rainbows about the gardens and streets."

"It sounds breathtaking. How did the engineers keep the crystal from lighting things on fire? I mean, with the focused light of the sun, couldn't it act like a magnifying glass? How did they get around that?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it is the sun. I have heard that much of your world is a great deal warmer than ours. Our sun is a much older one. There are a couple of regions on Minbar where the climate approaches what you call tropical, but there is no crystal there, and the cities are built of wood and stone. I am from the city of Yedor. It is the capital, in the northern temperate region. I remember my father taking me through all the streets, stopping at different shops on the way home from Temple, and then we would buy food and go to eat it in the garden near my house, by the waterfall." She mused through a chocolate haze. "And you? Do you miss Earth very much?"

"Sometimes. Although our cities don't sound as pretty, there are things I miss. I miss the mountains of Colorado. I moved there for a bit after school, to work. We call most of the mountains 'fourteeners' because they're over fourteen thousand feet high. Even from Denver, the main city, you can see the snow on the peaks, in the middle of summer. I miss Connecticut and the northeast coast. It rains almost every day there. Boy, do I miss rain. I miss the smell of it, the taste of it, the feel of it running through my hair and down my shirt. I miss stomping in all the puddles. And the seafood is to die for, Maine lobster, real clam chowder, thick as pudding, with big fat clams. The people there don't say much really, at least not out loud. They're kind of stoic. I guess what I really miss most are the people. You could take a place that looked exactly like New England or Colorado or New York, and plop me in the middle of it, but unless the people were there, the New Yorkers, the New Englanders, it wouldn't even come close. Even if the land were made to look like the original, but populated with Narns or Centauri or even Humans from somewhere else, it wouldn't be the same. I would feel the difference in my bones. That would hurt even more. I guess that's why we cling to people from the same place as us. My mom used to call them 'landsmen'. We're trying to carry the place with us in the people we know. It's weird because I don't think I ever stayed in the same place for more than six years. But I still I got more attached to people than places. My dad was in Earth Force for a while, and he kept getting transferred."

"Was?"

"Yeah, he was contracting with Earth Force as a doctor, so when he finished his contract, he decided to leave Earth Force and pursue research. He's a scientist. What about your father what does he do?"

"He passed beyond the veil ten years ago, after the start of the War. He was a scholar of the Religious Caste. He maintained and interpreted religious scrolls for those who had need of them but who had questions as to the meaning. I suppose you would have called him a consultant."

Havah had never heard the term 'passing beyond the veil'. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

Delenn waved her hand reassuringly. "It is alright. He was a wise and good man, and he will remain so in the next incarnation. If we are meant to, we will see one another again."

The anthropologist in Havah got the better of her. "So, the Minbari believe in re-incarnation?"

"Yes, it is difficult to explain. We believe that all beings are made of light, the fabric of the Universe. But as we become more organized, more complex beings, we become more complicated and forget our beginnings and the stuff from which we are made. We become ordered with boundaries and categories, and as such, all races possess a collective soul. This soul is created from joined experiences. And it forever seeks to re-capture the awareness that brought it into being, the simple molecules of light united as something greater than its millions of parts. And so as these parts, we yearn and seek as we cycle through life after life, to add ourselves and our new experiences to our collective soul. So that in one life one may be a warrior, in the next a priest, in the next a statue-carver, in each life gaining a view of the Universe that our soul did not have before. In each life, a connection is made, and the web of the soul grows. It is energy, thought, emotion. It is. We are." She paused, peering at Havah. "That is why what happened between our two peoples was such a tragedy. Our collective souls may be different, but the points of light that created them are not. We had no right to destroy this, and in doing so, we were diminished." She finished, her eyes mournful.

Havah had not expected this, and could only stare back for a moment. This woman had a depth that she had not wanted to admit her enemy could ever feel. Even knowing Trell, and knowing now what her father was, she had still wanted them to be cardboard cut-outs. It was easier to keep them at a distance that way. And in one night, in one turn of breath, this woman had gained flesh and a reality that she could no longer deny. And now, the full significance of the War landed on her with the weight of ten-thousand stone. She had killed her own people, unknowingly, and in self-defense, but they were still dead, and she was not. She felt marked, heavier with the weight of the unreturned. She sighed slowly, surrendering. "That sounds very much like Aristotle, and Jung mixed-together. Aristotle was a Greek philosopher, who believed in what he called Logos, a World Soul. He lived a few thousand years ago. Jung was a psychologist. The literal meaning of psychologist is psyche or soul, logist or studier, someone who studies the soul. He believed in what he called a collective unconscious. What he meant by this was that we, as a species, have a collective memory that feeds and informs the patterns of our thoughts and actions, discernable to us as myth, as archetypes. These forms or archetypes take on meaning for us across, and outside time and collective experience, and yet issue from both. And the concept of light you mentioned is also present in my culture. It reminds me of our Kabalah. The Kabalah is the body of Jewish mysticism, a delving deeper into our Torah, our religious scroll, than the mere surface meaning of the words. It is an examination of the very structure of the words, and the letters themselves as the foundation of the words and sentences, and the spaces in between. Every letter in the Hebrew or Aramaic language has a numeric value, and these numeric values have meanings that are hidden. Some people believe that they can reveal the very essence of the Universe. For example, my people are not supposed to eat pork, it comes from a type of animal that we say is not kosher. That means that it lacks a certain ritual purity. Well, many anthropologists thought that this animal was declared unkosher because the Hebrews spent so long in the desert, and pigs are not practical to raise safely in a desert. While this is true, the underlying reason, far more important to those who keep kosher, who maintain this ritual purity, is that all things, like the molecules or atoms that make up the spectrum of light, have a particular vibration, a spiritual and physical vibration. To the Jews who delve into the Kabalah, everything that they eat becomes a part of them, because it forms their substance. There's an old adage 'You are what you eat,' except they mix the spiritual and the physical concepts. So if that substance has a higher spiritual vibration, it can uplift you in your consumption of it, and both you and it become spiritually higher, closer to that light that you mentioned, closer to the source of that world soul. Conversely, if you eat something that has a lower spiritual vibration, then, you too are lowered, and slip farther from the source of light. We also have a concept of re-incarnation. Orthodox Jews believe that when you die you are given a choice, gehenna or gilgul. Gehenna is merely a garbage pit that existed near Hebron, where refuse was tossed and burned up in order to make mulch to return the nutrients of the organic matter to the soil. We can choose to have our soul tossed into this pit, theoretically speaking, and endure a few moments of intense spiritual purification, purification by fire so to speak, and then rejoin the source of light afterwards." Something kindled in Delenn's face. "Or we can choose gilgul, which is the transmigration of souls from life to life, trying to rectify past mistakes each time around. Purification by trial and error. The one takes minutes, the other could take thousands of years. So in each life, we focus on what we call 'olum habah', 'the world to come,' meaning the goal of joining with the light of the Universe."

"Interesting. This care taken with what we put into our bodies and how we do so is present in Minbari culture as well. There are many rituals associated with both the preparation of the food, and the consumption of it, and they must be followed correctly if one is to derive full benefit from the meal. And your rejoining of the collective soul, what would you choose? Fire or the long trial?"

"I think I would choose the long trial. I'm not crazy about the idea of purification by fire. And I know that I should yearn to re-join this world soul, but I don't. I'm not ready. It seems like one big aggravating, terrifiying, irresistable roller-coaster ride, and if I get a chance to go on it over and over, right now that doesn't seem like such a burden." She smirked sardonically.

Delenn smiled. "That does not seem like a poor choice. Perhaps there is something that you are still meant to do, something that you have not finished yet." Her face grew guarded.

"Maybe. Either way it will be a long path."

"Why?"

Havah hesitated, she hadn't been prepared to answer that, and hadn't thought before the comment was out. She wasn't at all prepared to let anyone get this close, let alone this inscrutable Minbari, but it was too late. "Well…I've killed people. I did it for a good reason, but they're still gone. I feel…marked." Havah wanted to change the subject, and her face must have shown her distress because Delenn put her hand on Havah's, just about the last thing Havah wanted.

"Havah, I believe, and my people, even the Warrior Caste knows, that you did what was necessary to protect your people, just as they would have. Not only is there no shame in this, but great sacrifice, and since you did it because of us, we are also marked in the same way. Whatever that means, you are not alone. And whatever your religion says about the state of your soul, do not lose faith in it yet. My father once said that, sometimes the working of the soul, and the way individuals interpret the religion, are two different things." She gave Havah an encouraging smile.

Havah regarded her carefully and couldn't help but return the smile. "Thank you Ambassador Delenn. I really enjoyed talking with you…It has been enlightening. I need to go now, but maybe we can talk again sometime."

"Thank you. It was nice to finally talk without the events of the station in the way." Delenn rose, bowed her head and left. Havah dumped out the sundae cup and grabbed her book and headed for a long night's sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 5: Hard Dreams

_The ship sped towards their homeworld. Why had she not been stopped, fired upon, destroyed. It was a trap. She knew it was a trap, she could feel Kuraal among them. Her flesh, her blood burned. _

GIVE ME BACK MY CHILD! SHOOT ME FROM THE SKY, EAT MY SOUL! BUT I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE NEXT TEN INCARNATIONS, TWENTY, A MILLION UNTIL I FIND MY CHILD AND WIPE YOU FROM EXISTENCE, _she howled at the approaching atmosphere. The ship navigated unharrassed, though the arid gloom, wind and dust. The landscape was washed-out sepia, a blasted holocaust world with gargantuan pillars reaching towards the sky like blackened skeletal fingers, clawing out of earth from a premature tomb, frozen in rigor mortis. The glyphs on the pillars glowed with infernal light. They were unreadable, shifting as she watched. She landed in a gulley, putting on her environmental mask. This was the end. She saw a motion in the corner of her eye, but when she looked no one was there. She heard Kuraal crying. The sound came from a fissure in the rock face. She saw a flash of dirty embroidered cloth, sky-blue. She went to the cleft, gun drawn, and entered it, expecting to be struck, but unable to stop. A door whispered shut behind her and she felt a rush of air. The chamber was oxygenated. Kuraal was standing in a corner, tears streaming down her tiny face. "Tishe…" She cried. _

"_Kuraal, du lay sholonor." _Come here, quickly._ Why was she not coming? A scalding pain shot through her wrist. It was gone. The hand that held the gun was gone, and she gasped, both from pain and shock and fell to her knees, clutching the ragged remains of her forearm, blood soaking the sand. The air writhed and arachnoid figures roiled into solidity, chittering. She could feel them around her now, and see them in front of Kuraal. She was surrounded, and began to understand the warbling language. _

_Turanni. Why are you fighting us? We are not your enemies, as you have been led to believe. You could not win this even if we were. Valen misunderstood, we stayed here to help you. The Vorlons have misled you. What do you want? We can help you. _

"_I know my loyalties, and I know who my enemies are! Do not lie to me! I know what you are," she screamed, rising to her feet. _

_Turanni. This does not have to be so difficult. You love your child, such a beautiful child, so much promise, so young. This is for her, and for you. All we ask of you is your assistance with our ships. We need you, and you need us. This is for the best, it is your destiny. You know this. _

"_KURAAAL! FOROK!" She screamed. _Run._ Black holes opened up like chasms in her mind, it would be too late in another nanosecond. _I will follow you into fire, I will follow you into darkness, I will follow you into death._ She grabbed her dagger and slashed across the arteries in her neck._

Havah gasped for air and jerked right off of her chair onto the floor, bringing an electronic pad and several questionnaires with her. The pad hit her on the nose before clattering to the floor, hard. "OW! FRAG!" She picked herself up and gathered the fallen supplies. She had lost count of how many times she had been thrust into this nightmare. Every time she fell asleep, for the past week. And now she was falling asleep at work. It was like _Nightmare on Elm Street_, one of her favorite old horror movies. She wanted to staple her eyelids open just to stay awake. She wasn't getting more than a half an hour's sleep at a time anyway, and it certainly wasn't restful. And now she was beginning to think that she was just going to slip into it one of these times and never wake up, trapped in the dream existence like a spectator caught forever in a hall of carnival mirrors. So tangible was the dream, and so horribly enchanting. She woke up feeling tired and drugged. And the dream was unfolding, like a story, a history, maybe a history of someone real, pushing everything else out of her head. Why was it always these particular people? The door chimed. Carmen poked her head in. "You ready for the epi meeting? Are you ok, sweetie? You look like shit!"

"I'm ok, I just haven't been sleeping right."

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, I just keep having this same stupid dream over and over, a real whopper. It's no big deal, just makes it hard to sleep."

"Well, you know, maybe it's your brain trying to tell you something. For all we do with science, we still can't explain everything. My mother, you know she still lives in Puerto Rico, she always used to go to this woman. She read, what do you call those things…tea leaves. I think she still does."

"You suggesting I go to a fortune-teller?"

"Well, what about a counselor? I know you don't believe in that stuff, but it couldn't hurt to go once, and see what they say, you never know, they might be able to suggest something."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Why don't you go home after the meeting, just make it up during the rest of the week. And you know if you need to take some time off, I can get one of the docs to cover the investigations and everything else can wait."

"Thanks no, I'm cool, just a bad week. I might try looking up a counselor though."

"Well, let me know."

Carmen patted her arm and they went to the epidemiology meeting. Afterwards, Havah searched through her desk and called a friend who had gone to a counselor on the station, got the number and called to set up an appointment for a day from now, so she still had time to cancel if she changed her mind.

She wandered to her quarters and tried again to sleep. But every time she started to drift, she jerked awake again, muscles spasming, expecting the dream to seize her. She couldn't get any rest like this, and the next rude yank out of half-consciousness made her so angry, she hurled herself out of bed, threw her clothes back on and stomped out to the Zocalo. The horror of the dream drove her to seek a crowd, anything that would dissolve the rawness and foreboding of the dream, and the hopeless memory of the crying infant and bent shadows in dusty rooms. The Zocalo rebounded with gregarious laughter and jostling patrons, and the casino was even louder. She perched on a bar stool watching the crap tables, hot chocolate mug in her hands loaded with sugar. She sighed and sunk down on the stool, her feet hooked through the bottom bar. She didn't know how long she sat, letting the cacophony permeate her, with people floating by like driftwood. _God, I'm tired_, she thought.

Next to the crowd at the edge of the bar counter was a dark man sitting. He was watching someone intently. Londo Mollari was the man he was watching. It was impossible to hear what the ambassador was saying, it looked like he was perusing merchandise in a laquered black box. The dark man was listening, and it didn't appear that anyone around the table or even the two heavies glowering around the edge of the little cabal noticed the eavesdropping. As she watched, the air roiled around the dark man, the same bizarre distortion in space that she had seen in her dream in the cave, like watching reality through rippling water. And then her reality dissolved and she was trapped in the same hall of mirrors she had thought she escaped in coming here, the same nightmare in exquisitely horrid and identical detail, like an everyday scene convulsing into computer-generated iterations, playing the same error message over and over. When she came to, her head was hovering an inch over the counter, jaw slack, dark locks falling into the wetness on the bar counter, her mug had fallen and broken in pale shards, splashing warm liquid on her shoes. A couple of people were looking at her. The bartender shook her arm and asked her if she was ok, and did she need someone to take her home, while people returned their attention to previous conversation or gambling. She shook her head dumbly, and said "Just had hot chocolate." She handed him her credit chit, and he rang her up.

The dark man's eyes were on her now. She didn't have any recollection of what had happened while she had been on her ride through the Looking Glass, but she didn't like his face. And then he smiled a dark smile at her. His whole face lit up, but there was no smile in his eyes, only a hollowness, and something else, a consciousness that was not his. Upon scrutiny, his face should have been handsome, brown hair neatly swept back, clean tan features, big chocolate-colored eyes, perfect teeth. But there was a profound wrongness, a quality to the natural motions of his face that made his smile a rictus. He gave her the sense of a man ridden by powerful forces from the twisted side of the soul, from an Escher landscape stark and chaotic. Black holes opened in her mind when he smiled. She looked down at her chocolate-splattered feet. Her favorite Ray Bradbury passage that she had read over and over until the pages slipped out of the book, cycled through her head.

_For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir in their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts, they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them…Need, want, desire, we burn these in our fluids, oxidize these in our souls, which jet-streams out lips, nostrils, eyes, ears, broadcasts from antennae fingers, long or short-wave, God only knows, but the Freakmasters perceive Itches and come crab-clustering to Scratch._

_They're here_, she thought. _What do you want?_ she thought, like Cooger and Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show. _Who are they_? The autumn people, unknowingly whispered into existence from a twentieth century science fiction book? Was she crazy? Maybe this was a schizophrenic break. All that mattered now was that this man and his ring of spirits were still watching her, invisible except for strange eddies in the air surrounding him. And she knew now, that real or imaginary, they could get to her anywhere she was, alone or in the midst of a crowd. A man next to her at the bar sat eating a steak, cutting the meat into fastidious little pieces with a serrated knife. She resisted the overwhelming urge to grab the knife and slice through her throat. And perhaps the most terrifying thing about the urge was the sudden irrationality that was completely counter to her survival instinct.

Then something changed. The man's smile faltered and the air electrified. His focus shifted past her. At the edge of the room, a tall being in a voluminous robe had entered, almost floating above the ground, an alien in an elaborate encounter suit. She had never seen this alien or any of its species aboard the station before. All the same, there was a familiar feel. She was not a telepath but it spoke into her mind. **GO**. One word and she recognized the voice, the feel of it in her mind. It had been there before. But when? Now was not the time to ponder this, so she left as fast as she could. All she could do now was wander the station like a sleepless Cain, reflexively staying close to crowds. Her quarters were too oppressive, and the dreams awaited her if she stood still for too long. _I need help with this, it's too big for me_, she realized. Almost asleep on her feet, she returned to her quarters at 7:30 to call in sick and went to the counselor. The counselor took one look at her and asked for a few moments to re-schedule her other appointments.

Havah sat on a worn love-seat, unsure how to proceed. She was here for answers that she really didn't want. And neither the prospect of having had some sort of psychotic break, nor the possibility that those things she saw near the dark man could be real, were at all palatable. _A rock and a hard place_. So she sat and fidgeted in uncomfortable silence. The counselor began carefully.

"Hi, my name is Joan, Joan Chevalier. You're Havah Lassee? Can we talk, can you tell me what's going on?"

Despite her dislike of psychologists, she knew that counselors were trained to impart a feeling of safety with the tone of their voice. And it had the desired effect. Exhausted tears spilled down her face and she couldn't even speak for a few minutes, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to stop the sobs. After the torrent was spent, she just sat, chest heaving for a moment, face burning. The counselor hadn't moved except to place a box of tissues and a glass of water in front of her. She looked concerned. Havah ran her fingers through her tangled hair and began slowly, choking back more tears.

"I…um…I don't know how to start this…I'm thinking maybe I'm crazy, but there are some things that happened that seem so real…and part of me wants them to be real, so that I can count on me, so that I'm not crazy, and I know what reality is. But part of me thinks that it would be the most horrible thing if I weren't hallucinating."

How many times had this woman heard, "I think maybe I'm crazy…" ? Her face didn't reveal, she just said neutrally, "Well, why don't we start with what happened, what you saw?"

Havah hesitated. What if talking about it made it happen again? What if those things were just waiting for someone to mention them, listening for their cue? But she couldn't keep doing this. She was here, and for better or worse had to deal with either of the two possibilities.

"I've been having nightmares lately. Well, really one nightmare a bunch of times. I got tired of it. It got to the point where I always jerked awake just as I was falling asleep because I don't want this dream again, and so I went to the Zocalo to get some hot chocolate. Well, I was sitting at the bar, when I noticed this man watching these other people at a table, like eavesdropping. Well, then…see this is where it gets dodgy. I…" A lump rose in her throat again, not sure how to explain what happened, knowing even as she was speaking, how insane it sounded. "I saw the air in front of him sort of tear, like there was something there no one could see. And there was this staticky sound around him, just like the things in my dream, these creatures. And all of the sudden, I fell into the dream again, except that I was wide awake. Well, then I woke up, or came to or whatever, since I hadn't really been asleep, and the guy was staring at me, and it felt like these things that were around him, and I do think there was something around him, like they were watching me too….I know, I know how crazy that sounds. Then, an alien showed up at the door of the bar and I think it was telepathic, because it told me to go away, in my mind. There was something between it and this man, and I was stuck in the middle. The thing is also, that I've heard this other alien before, in my head, somewhere, but I don't know where. So I left, and I've been wandering around the station, not wanting to go home because I don't want to dream, and I don't know what to think about what I felt or saw or whatever. Also, before, the alien showed up, I had this urge, and it wasn't at all like me, to commit suicide. I wouldn't, I don't believe in it, but I don't know why I had it. I'm not unhappy, just really freaked out and really scared." She finished miserably, hearing and loathing the words as they came out of her mouth, guessing that the counselor's next move would be to commit her or put her under some sort of observation.

The counselor did indeed look very concerned, her face had darkened when Havah mentioned the suicidal urge.

_Stupid!_ Havah thought savagely, _I shouldn't have mentioned that._

"Havah, I won't lie to you, I'm very worried about what you just told me concerning suicidal ideation. What do you mean when you say that you had an urge, but it wasn't like you? Have you ever thought about this before, about harming yourself?"

"No, well, not recently, I mean, in high school and college, I was pretty miserable sometimes, but it wasn't unusual, just the typical adolescent drama, no relationship, bad relationship, whatever. And even then, it was just psychodrama, I never wanted to kill myself. But this wasn't like that, I'm not a teenager any more and I'm pretty happy with my life. And I don't think there was much of a chance of me doing it then either, at the bar, because my brain knew it wasn't real. I just want to know why it happened, why I felt like I should do that, when I know I didn't want to. There isn't any reason, it's not me…I've heard that schizophrenics get voices and stuff giving them orders, like…like auditory hallucinations. Do you think I'm schizophrenic?"

"Well, why don't we talk a little more about these things you saw in your dream. Start with the dream, I haven't heard that yet."

Havah related the dream to her in as much detail as she could elaborate. The counselor listened with her hand on her chin, like countless generations of counselors before her, but had no immediate answers.

When Havah was done, the counselor sat for a moment, and then said, "Well, let's see, I still need more information. You mentioned that you felt you know this alien who came into the bar but you didn't know from where. Can you think of what gave you this idea? And the dreams…dreams often give us indications of things that are going on in our lives, sort of like the brain's way of working out problems. Can you think of some reason you might be having these dreams? What do these monsters represent to you? Do you think they represent anything at all? Is there something going on besides these dreams, that you think might be triggering them?"

Havah sighed. She knew it wasn't going to be simple. "No, nothing has ever happened to me, at least not recently. My life has been fairly hum-drum since the war."

"The Earth-Minbari War?"

_No, the Dilgar War…I'm really in my 60s. Yes the Minbari War, what other war would I be talking about. _"Yeah."

"What happened during the War? What was it like for you, for your family?"

"What was it like? It sucked! I fought at Proxima Three and on the Line. I killed some Minbari, and saw a whole lot of people die and get crippled, it sucked total ass! What other way would it be!"

The counselor responded to her truculence with equanimity. "I can only imagine, it must have been terrible. Can we talk some more about it? Are you ok to talk about it?"

Havah sat sullenly for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. There's really nothing to talk about, though. It's over and done. The Minbari are allies now and there's no point in digging up the hatchet."

"I'm not suggesting that, but sometimes even when situations are resolved, people can still be angry."

"Yeah, but if that was it, then why would I be one of them in the dream. It's not like it was a dream wishing that that sort of thing would happen to one of them. I was this Minbari person in the dream, and just as horrified as if it were happening to me, as if it were my kid trapped. And there were no humans anywhere in the dream, so how can it be about that."

"I'm not saying that it is, just suggesting that we explore the possibilities because of the fact that you did dream about the Minbari. Is it possible that you could be trying to identify with them, maybe a desire to 'bury the hatchet,' and at the same time, be resolving some of the bad things that happened during the war?"

That wasn't something she wanted to hear either. "I guess."

She didn't know what else to say. The counselor waited until the silence was uncomfortable again. "Well, why don't you tell me how you feel about some of the images. You mentioned terror, anger, sorrow, the loss of a child. Only you know what any of these things mean to you. What are some of your ideas?"

Havah was irritated. She had some very clear ideas about why she might dream about Minbari. Unfortunately, she thought with a dawning discomfort, they didn't make any sense because she had been dreaming about this scene for a very long time. Longer she thought even, than the beginning of the War. She had seen the end of this dream before, during her teenage years, in high school, until the War. The temporal sequence didn't make any sense. And she still didn't see what any of the reasons that she could come up with, had anything to do with the 'autumn people'. In the final analysis though, she didn't have any better ideas as far as making this end. "I have some ideas but they don't make any sense. I've been having this dream for years sporadically, like before the War, and the other reason, I just learned of, so the time sequence is wrong."

"So tell me anyway, tell me your ideas."

Havah glanced at the clock, sure her hour was up, but the counselor said evenly, "It's all right, we have time, I re-scheduled some appointments. I wanted to talk with you for a while. Some things take time, and I wanted to make sure you leave here ok. At least ok enough to function until we can talk some more. Nothing in counseling happens quickly."

"Well, I found out recently that my father, my real father…I'm adopted, was Minbari. I'm part alien, just in case you couldn't tell." She said sardonically, pointing to the bridge of her nose.

The counselor smiled gently. "I couldn't, I hadn't noticed. Why don't you tell me some things about that? Did you know either of your birth parents?"

Havah explained what she knew, and what she had recently discovered, the diary and sketches. _Why not_, she thought, _I have had to explain it to every doctor from here to the Rim. _The counselor looked fascinated.

"Wow, that's pretty powerful. What was it like for you to read that diary?"

"Weird. I was seeing the part of her life that led up to me, and it wasn't exactly a love match. And my father, who knows what he's like? And I'm really at least partly the cause of what happened to them, and I wasn't even born yet. Not only was I unplanned by them, but I WAS planned against their will by someone else who didn't care about either one of them."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"I don't know, yeah, sort of. I mean, I know I didn't have any control over it, but I'm still either the cause or the reminder of something horrible that happened to them, no matter how you cut it."

"You may be the result, but you are not the cause. The cause was the action of another group of aliens you never knew. That isn't your fault. And it doesn't sound, from what you have described, as though your mother let that bother her. She appeared to understand that you were as much a victim as either of them. But you're not a victim now. You have done pretty well. You're intelligent, with a burgeoning career, and you have a lot going for you that is yours, regardless of what was planned for you. But I do think, based on what you have told me so far, that we need to keep talking about some of these things. I'll give you my honest opinion so far. It is unlikely that you are suffering from schizophrenia. There has to be more than the presence of auditory or visual hallucinations to warrant a diagnosis of schizophrenia. There are other symptoms, like flat or inappropriate affect. That is just a ten-dollar word for emotions. Then there is disorganization of thought, such as the inability to string together a sentence, or hold a coherent conversation, repetitive and nonsensical speech. You haven't shown any of these other symptoms. What you have shown are symptoms consistent with post-traumatic-stress disorder, aggravated by current stress and lack of sleep."

"The War ended ten years ago, wouldn't I have experienced this a long time ago?"

"Not necessarily, sometimes a stress reaction can be triggered by something seemingly unrelated years later. And it doesn't have to be from the War, it could be merely from learning what you learned about your parents, or any combination of things. It's a lot more common of a problem than most people think. Again, it might not be this, but it sounds like a stress reaction to me."

"Well, ok, suppose it is, what do I do? What do I do about those things, sleep with a garland of garlic around my neck?"

"Well, I'd like to keep talking about this, if you are willing. I have some ideas, although they may be 'out there' to you. They are just ideas. One is that I am trained in hypnotherapy. I can take you into the dream under hypnosis and maybe we can analyze it that way. Sort of like going through it slow-motion with a stop button so that you can zoom in on what you need to see, or exit whenever you want. But only if you feel comfortable with that. As far as your concern with these creatures being on the station, I've seen a lot of aliens come through the station, but I doubt that there are invisible ones. I think that this part of it is stress. On the other hand, I don't know about this person you saw, the man at the bar. If you feel threatened, certainly, you might want to talk to one of the station security. There are people who can be harmful without being invisible or alien. I would follow your instincts as far as that is concerned."

Havah looked at her skeptically. "I guess I could try the hypno-thing."

The counselor put out her hand. "Look, Havah, what you just told me is a very long story, and if you have never talked about it with anyone else, then it is not at all surprising that you are having problems right now. You survived a war, and then found out some very powerful things about your past and that of your parents. Did you think it couldn't affect you just because it is over? Unfortunately, it very rarely works that way. People are people, and we hang onto things if we don't express them in some way, and they take time to let go. This isn't going to be a quick fix, I can't promise you that. Will you at least try, will you come back tomorrow? I'm also a little concerned about the suicidal urge you expressed. Will you call if something happens? I can meet you somewhere if you can't come here."

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Why don't I give you a prescription for sleeping meds," Havah shot her a look. The counselor added. "Just for tonight, so you can get some sleep."

She took the counselor's information and prescription and left. She slept that night. The dream was still there, but muddy.

She showed up at the counselor's office after work, uneasy with what was ahead.

The room looked the same, and the woman beckoned to the loveseat she had sat in the previous day.

"So what do you want to do today? Do you want to talk some more, or try hypnotherapy, or maybe some stress-reduction exercises?"

"I guess I'll try the hypno-thing."

"Are you sure? You seem uncomfortable."

"I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll start by telling you a little about it and what I'll be doing, and if you change your mind, just tell me." She launched into a fascinating explanation of hypnotherapy, although Havah would have been more fascinated had she been listening to it as part of a school lecture, not as a patient. "Did you get all that, is there anything you want to ask?"

"Nope."

"OK. Is it alright if I record this? It will make it easier for us to look at it afterwards, so that you can see it too, and hear what you said. It is confidential."

"Yeah fine."

She set up the recorder and they began. Havah descended obediently into the murky netherworld that had become so familiar over the past week. It consumed her, the images, the crying girl, the feel of her hand being sliced off and the hopelessness of the situation. She began gasping for air and then awoke laying across the love-seat.

The counselor looked worried. She also looked perplexed.

"Ok…well, it wasn't quite what I expected, but we'll go over the recording and maybe that will help."

She slipped the crystal into the viewer. Havah saw herself under hypnosis. The counselor spoke. "When I count to three, you are going to experience the dream, and I'm going to ask you questions about what you are seeing. If you understand me, answer yes."

"Yes."

"One, two, three." Havah watched her face contort as she entered the dream. "Havah, where are you right now?"

Havah uttered one word. "Z'Hadum." The counselor's face faltered and her color drained. Havah and the counselor, watching the recording, shivered involuntarily. The tape spoke again. "What does that mean Havah? Is that a place? Can you tell me where that is?" Havah replied in unintelligible syllables.

"Havah, I don't understand what you just said. Can you say it again in English?"

There was no answer. Then she suddenly convulsed, every muscle taut, and yelled. "Shay ananda fa kili dotor. .." The diatribe went on for another minute. Her fists were clenched and her face choked with rage. The counselor stared at her with apprehension.

"Havah, can you tell me what you just said? What is happening?"

Havah replied, but not in English.

After a few moments, Havah spoke in a hushed tone to someone no one could see, grasped her right wrist, grunted and doubled over, her whole body shuddering. "What's going on Havah? Are you ok?" The counselor rushed to her and pulled her shoulders up so she could see the woman's face. Havah's eyes met hers for a minute, but they were unseeing and watery, and her face was livid and lined with pain, teeth clenched.

"Havah, what's going on! Talk to me!"

Havah forced a few words out through her teeth in a ragged voice. "Kili an nu hel. Kili an nu shokor. Kili an nu sha'!" She fell against the cushions, gasping and clutching her throat." Joan was really frightened now.

"McDonalds!" She uttered the break-word, panicking. Relief washed over her face when Havah's breath grew regular and she stirred, opening her eyes. The counselor in the recording returned to her chair and pressed the recorder.

The recording ended. Joan turned to her and waited for a reaction.

Havah sat for a moment, picking at her nails and staring at the blank screen. "Still think I'm not schizophrenic? Didn't you say that schizophrenics often repeat nonsensical sounds?"

"Yes, but this doesn't follow the pattern of most schizophrenics. The only time you have spoken in anything other than English was when you were under hypnosis. Also, a diagnosis of schizophrenia can only be made after six months of persistent symptoms. Does what you were saying have any meaning to you?"

"No! I have no idea what that was, it doesn't make any sense! I mean, I don't know any alien languages and it sure doesn't sound like any Earth languages either…I guess it sounds a little like Minbari, but I don't speak the language, and I've only heard it a few times."

"Do you think that you could have absorbed some of it subconsciously and inserted it into your dream as a reference?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm sorry that this didn't have the effect that I'd thought. I thought it might slow the dream down for you, so that we could ask questions and get some details that would otherwise have gone unnoticed, something that might help you unravel this."

Havah stared at her glumly.

"Well, why don't we try this." She went to her desk and got out a pad and pencil.

_You gotta give it to her_, Havah thought. _At least she's really trying, and not blowing all those pat counseling lines up my ass_.

Joan handed Havah the pad. "I know this isn't much, but why don't you try drawing it, drawing what you saw. Start by drawing out the first thing you saw, even if its just stick figures and outlines."

Havah sighed. "That's pretty much what it's going to be, I don't have my mother's talent for drawing." She began drawing the landscape of Z'hadum in crude broad strokes, the rugged outline of the cliffs and gulleys, the black pillars reaching hungrily for the wasted sky. "See these pillars had these markings on them, like hieroglyphs, and they glowed sometimes. Or it looked like they did." The sketch was clumsy, but in the lines there was conveyed the authority of certainty, of experiential sight that couldn't be mimicked. The effect was chilling, such a simple set of lines recorded by a set of eyes that had seen them countless times. She flipped over a page and drew a couple of intersecting lines indicating a fissure in a rock face with distinctive markings on either side of the entrance. She flipped another page and sketched a stick figure at the edge of the page. A little triangle surrounding the stick figure's head represented a bone crest. "This is the little girl." She drew water droplets on the circle of the face. "She's crying. She was wearing a pale blue robe. It was dirty." She drew another triangle for the dress and scribbled dirt marks all over the front. The rest of the page, she filled with the strangest creatures the counselor had ever seen. Like giant black spiders or crabs. They had triangular spiky heads with eight eyes, arranged in two rows and too many jointed legs with knobby protrusions at the joints. Lines were drawn to indicate that their eyes shined or glowed.

Joan felt an irrational surge of fear looking at the coarse doodles. _Don't get sucked into her fear, _Joan told herself. _It's fine to identify with your client, but manage your own fear._ She shook off the passing fit of anxiety. _Lots of people are afraid of spiders, and those creatures look like spiders. That's what I'm reacting to,_ she thought.

Havah continued. "See, these are the creatures. They faded sometimes though. The lady in the dream couldn't see them at first. That's why they got her surrounded, and cut off her hand. She couldn't see them, and when she did, it was too late." Havah pointed to the mass of angled limbs.

"Did these people or things have names?"

"No, not really. The lady just thought of them as…as shadows or shades or something."

"What about the woman and child? Did they have names?"

Havah paused and thought hard. It was coming back. "The girl's name was Koral, or Kurahl, or something like that."

"What about the woman?"

"I don't remember. Maybe the shadows said her name once, but I don't remember."

"Well, that's more than you remembered yesterday. I know it's slow. Take these sketches with you, and the pad. And when you dream again, do what you did this time. Or write it down as soon as you wake up, in as much detail as possible. That'll help." The counselor gave her a notebook so that she wouldn't have to scare one up at home.

After Havah left, Joan reviewed the recording again and again, hitting pause at various places. _What an interesting young woman_, she thought. _So young to have such a history. _No younger though, she supposed, than many of her clients who often came to her from Down Below. They too had been down long rocky roads, and they aged quickly and hard. 'Life on the Streets,' even with the lack of elemental forces on Babylon 5, was a brutal existence. And then, there were the veterans. She got many of those, often part of the same population as those from Down Below. The war left more broken people than either Humans or Minbari were willing to admit. That was what had led her to her diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder. But this one was different, and she couldn't figure out why. Now that the girl had mentioned her Minbari parentage, Joan could see the anatomical differences clearly. It was surprising enough on its own, considering, with her limited knowledge of Mendelian genetics, how difficult this would have been to achieve, especially with the lack of expression of such a dominant trait as a bone-crest. But that wasn't it either. There was something else about her, an enigma that went deeper than anatomy or parenthood, and far deeper than the vagaries of the Earth-Minbari War. _What do I do about this speech, these syllables? I don't know Minbari either, to know whether it is a language or gibberish, or some internally consistent but entirely invented language used as a defense mechanism. _The thought niggled. _Well, there is only one way to resolve this question…_She played the vid, pausing after each of Havah's utterances, and then repeated the syllables as nearly as she could into a voice recorder. She would have to ask a Minbari if it was a Minbari language, or any language that they could recognize. She didn't have to tell them where she'd heard the speech, so Havah's confidentiality would be protected. She made an appointment with Ambassador Delenn. This seemed like a trivial thing to take to an ambassador, but the ambassadors were also there for information and representation of their people and culture, so it seemed the only logical place to inquire about language. Joan knew of no other Minabri she could accost about linguistic questions. The ambassadors would very likely have been trained as cultural brokers. At least someone in her office might know. She got the ambassador's aide on the screen, a young Minbari man. "Yes, my name is Joan Chevalier. I just have a few questions about your language that I was hoping someone in your office could help me with."

"The ambassador is busy, but if you would like, I will try to assist you."

"Terrific, I recorded the sounds I was curious about, should I play them for you. The thing is that I thought they might be in a Minbari language, but I don't know."

"I am free in a couple of hours, if you wish to bring them by. Do you know where the suite is located?"

"Yes, I'll be by then, at 1400 hours?

"Very well, I will see you then."

A couple of hours later, she rang the chime of the ambassadorial suite and the young man from the vid screen answered. He was short and slightly built with a fairly smooth gentle head-bone and mild face. He bowed to her and gestured her inside.

"I am Lennier, of the Third Feyn of Tredomo. I am Ambassador Delenn's aide. It is nice to meet you, Joan Chevalier? Would you like water?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

He nodded and gestured to a comfortable padded chair, and sat himself in a more rigid looking one, opposite from her. She gave him the crystal with her voice recording on it. He slipped it into the crystal port and listened. After it began, he strained to understand, and then looked more and more perplexed. He ran the recording again, and then sat for a minute absorbing what he had heard. Joan waited, not wanting to interrupt him, and then offered. "It is from a patient."

"Is this person Minbari?"

"No. But I thought they might be speaking one of your languages."

"Can you tell me more about this patient?"

"No, I'm sorry. It would violate their confidentiality."

"Oh, of course. Well, it took me a couple of times to understand, the pronunciation is a little odd, but it is a Minbari language. You wished to know if it was, correct? It is one of our ancient languages, a dialect of the Warrior Caste. The reason that I wanted to know where you heard it, is that it hasn't been spoken in conversation for approximately 800 years. It fell into disuse after the death of Valen. It's origin is the region of Tinarel, mostly from the clans and families of the Star Riders and Moon Shields. It is still read occasionally in historical scrolls. The content is very disturbing however, and consistent with the time in which it would have been spoken, about 1000 years ago. The first word, Z'hadum, is a place-name from one of our myths. The home-world of an ancient star-faring race that we fought 1000 years ago. Valen, who is one of our greatest religious and military heroes helped us to win the war against them. The next few sentences say, 'I am going to the home-world of the Devourers. It is a barren place. I know it is a trap, but I have to go,'" he paused and looked uncomfortable. "'Give me back my child. I will hunt you and destroy you if it takes the next nine-hundred incarnations.' The next phrase is 'Kuraal,' This is a name, 'come here.' The last phrase…I do not know where they heard this, perhaps your patient saw the rebirth ceremony we demonstrated a few months ago, is 'I will follow you into fire, I will follow you into darkness, I will follow you into death.' Many of these things are related to Valen and to our myths. Does your patient know Minbari mythology or legends?" He handed her the crystal.

"I don't know. I guess so!"

"Kuraal was the daughter of one of the first members of the Gray Council, our ruling body set up by Valen. The mother and child both died in the war fought by Valen. They were Warrior Caste, Star Riders clan. I can give you a book to read on our history and legends if you would find that helpful."

"Yes, thank you! It would be a great help!"

"Of course. Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, just a bad dream."

"I see. That is a very interesting dream." He retrieved a data crystal and handed it to her. "Here are some stories recently transcribed. Prior to this, many of these stories were available only on our sacred scrolls. If there are any further questions I can answer, please ask."

They bowed to one another and she headed back to her quarters.

Lennier sat and stared at the closed door. When Delenn entered some time later, he said. "Delenn, something very strange just happened…"

Joan's head was reeling. _Defunct Warrior Caste language? What the hell had this girl been into? So the story was real, but how did she come by it? And how the hell did she know that language!_ She must have absorbed it somehow in her contact with the Minbari. Maybe someone had mentioned it and she didn't realize that she had heard it and incorporated it into her psyche as a way of identifying with her father. That was the only explanation she could think of. Yet, something still didn't seem right. Maybe it was dissociative identity disorder. She had certainly undergone trauma, but the most memorable trauma would have been the war, as far as Joan had learned, and Havah had been past the age when people normally developed this trauma-induced disorder. The woman had been able to answer her question in the beginning, 'Where are you, do you know where you are?' Meaning that she had understood English, yet spoke in Minbari. And when she had come to, she couldn't understand a word of the Minbari she had spoken in the dream. This new entity did not have all the qualities of an autonomous personality. It was the same dream over and over, as if this entity was fixated on this moment or this set of events, never progressing except to add to the same string of events. This was not a fluid existence. It seemed to be confined to the past. There were too many things that didn't fit the dissociative disorder theory. She had already been intrigued by this case, and now the conundrum deepened.

Havah shuddered, looking at the sketches. This was supposed to help her? She didn't feel any easier now than she had a few days ago. _I know this sort of thing takes forever, but I don't think I have forever._ She cast the little bottle of pills into the closet._ I hate feeling drugged all day from the night before. I'll chance it tonight_. She slipped on her favorite ratty Cab Calloway t-shirt, and favorite boxer shorts and went to bed, and was asleep within minutes.

_She slipped on her armored black overcoat and gloves. It was a small hour of the morning and the halls and chambers were deserted as she slid through them like a ghost. As near as they could tell, they had won the war, but her daughter had been missing for three days and she now knew where to find her. Trelann had been killed and their little girl was alone. She heard Kuraal whisper in her mind, as if from a deep well-bottom, telling her where she was and that she was scared. Everyone looked sadly at her, knowing the loss of her husband, and now, of their young child. Valen, her mentor, spoke kindly to her, but all she could feel was irritation and grief. It wasn't his fault, he was trying, but he couldn't help her, and he knew it. The new Gray Council had been in session for most of the trip back from the final battle at which they would encounter the Shadows, hopefully not again for a very long time. 1000 years, Valen said, although she never understood how he came by this precise number. He was so enigmatic. _

_They had been deliberating a process of mediation, now that the war was over, to resolve the clan conflicts on a more consistent basis, and establishing provisions to maintain the Anla Shok in a surveillance capacity. People needed avenues, for re-building what was neglected during the war-time fervor. Their attention must be re-directed towards societal problems. They had paused to unite against a common enemy, but now they must truly begin to address their problems at home, which had almost destroyed them before and during the war. Before Valen came. There was finally a lull in activity, when they reached home, for recuperation. _

_She was exhausted, she had never realized how draining politics and argument were. It had been so simple to be part of the crew of a starship, command and execution. No debate. Although, before her promotion by Valen, many of her superior officers had vociferously reprimanded her for 'creative interpretation' of orders. She must have spent half of her career nursing lashes in the brig or cleaning the waste recycling units, which was where she had met her husband. They had been cut from the same oddly-made cloth, it seemed. So perhaps it was not surprising that she was warming to her new tasks as Valen knew she would. But now, she hoped he would understand. _They have my child. We are all she has. I can sacrifice my life and am able to understand what is asked of me in doing so. But she is too young, she doesn't understand. I can't leave her there without even trying to get her. I promised I wouldn't let the Shadows get her. I fought this war to keep her safe, and I will._ She wrote her destination and a lengthy explanation on a scroll. _I will return in a few days, Master, I promise.

"_Is…is everything alright, Satai?" _

_She turned to the frightened face of a gangly, meek Religious Caste acolyte. _

"_I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," He turned his eyes down in humility, "I…couldn't sleep and I just heard…and it is so late…and the war…" He couldn't have been more than fourteen cycles, judging by the eruption of adolescent skin blemishes and cracking voice._

"_I understand, everyone is still nervous after what we have all been through. Do not be alarmed, they have not returned. I am seeing to business that I have neglected while we were away." That was the truth. "Like you, I could not sleep…Good night." She left abruptly, not wishing to engage in further conversation. She left the scroll at the foot of Valen's door, knowing he would find it when he awoke, but not wishing to wake him now. She took a shuttle to her warship and gave them the coordinates. They looked at her in surprise, but no one questioned. "I'm going to get my daughter, and destroy any of the enemy left."_

_When they arrived, she ordered them to leave. "I want your word of honor that you will not follow me!"_

"_But Satai?—" The first officer protested._

"_That's an order! This part of it is my fight, not yours. Return to Minbar."_

_The man's square jaw twitched, and the understanding passed that they wouldn't see her again. All Minbari understood vengeance. "Satai?…" He said softly._

"_Your word, Nirhal. Give me your word."_

_He nodded slowly. "Yes, Satai."_

_She launched herself in a short-range fighter when they were close, to scout out the defenses of the Shadow home-world. There didn't appear to be many. They had managed to destroy most of them, in their alliance with the Vorlons, but there had still been some remaining. This was wrong. Her warrior instinct screamed with every bone, with every nerve that something was wrong. The remaining defense structures should have detected her ship, since her skill at flying had so far deserted her, she had flown right in front of one of them. And she didn't think they were offline. She was fairly certain now, upon reflection of the situation, the whisper of her daughter in her head, the silent defense system, that it had been a trap. _

The rest of the dream followed as before, and ended with Havah choking awake. She fumbled for the notepad she had left by the bed and wrote down what she could remember, and then attempted to sketch what she could. She scribbled what might have looked like the inside of a Minbari warship, to someone who was drunk or high, and finally gave up when the pencil lead snapped. She threw the papers up over her head in a shower and flopped down again as the papers fluttered down over her face and around the bed. The next-door neighbors were playing some weird polka-like music with too much bass that vibrated even through the heavy duranium alloy walls. She envisioned vividly, bashing into their quarters with a Louisville Slugger, and smashing all of their crystals and crystal-ports into powder. _A magic Louisville Slugger, that could crack through duranium like paper. Paper, scissors, baseball bat_. She sat up scattering papers everywhere, pounded the pillow with her fist, threw herself out of bed muttering invectives, shoved her shoes on, and left, still with her pajamas on. That garnered barely a glance from anyone in the casino. And she chose a perch close to the edge of the room and sat, bleary-eyed, watching a morbidly-obese alien women with a scaly pate and flattened nose being robbed by one of the slot machines, as she poked sausage-like fingers into the token-return slot and kept pulling the handle obsessively. Beyond her, at a baccarat table, a man lost all of his money and jumped up and down, like a puppet, and finally threw his drink in the face of the erstwhile croupier. Two security people came and tried to pacify him, then after an unsuccessful few minutes, led him out of the casino. _Wow, someone is having a much worse night than me. I feel better now,_ Havah thought, and returned to her quarters. The nightmare didn't return, or the next night, or the next.

When she went to her appointment, the following day, she told the counselor what had happened.

"Wow, I'm glad that the notepad seems to be helping, at least. Do you want to discuss what you wrote?"

"Sure. I don't know that it can tell me anything else. The dreams stopped and that's all I care about. It did get more elaborate though. It went back further this time. This lady is a Minbari soldier. You know she lost her kid in the other dreams, but this time she lost her husband too, though the dream didn't go into it much. There was just this pervasive melancholy throughout the whole thing. She was a student, I think. Her teacher's name was Valen. But I didn't get to see him. A couple people called her Satai, but I think that was a title, not a name, because later, the creatures, the Shadows, called her Turanni. She wrote a note to Valen and left it by his door, and then took one of their warships and went to the planet I told you about. She made them leave her there, even though she knew it was a trap. She was in the government. I think, in the dream at least, she was in the Gray Council. I've heard of them, but she's not what I would have pictured. That's dream logic for you. It's just a dream, so it doesn't have to make sense. She thought of herself as very liberal, even unorthodox. That's really it. Nothing else to talk about. I think my brain was just mushing all kinds of things together just like you said. And maybe it worked out whatever it needed to."

"That's possible. Do you feel that you identify with anything that was going on in the dream?"

"I guess. I'm not exactly conservative either."

"Havah, do you have any period that you can think of that you are missing memories, like any amnesia, or periods of time when you can't remember getting from one place to another?"

"Yeah…I was taken aboard during the Battle of the Line. They didn't want me to remember the ship, so they erased my memory of it. That's all I ever found out about it. They did that to a few people. They wanted to find out more about humans. Why, do you think they did something to me besides that?"

"No, well, that is possible I suppose, but there are things that indicate that this is not entirely the right idea either. I went over the recording of what you said, and repeated it into another tape. I wanted to find out if what you said was a real language…"

Havah's stomach and throat began to burn, and her face got hot. "Did you tell the Minbari about my dream?"

"No. I just repeated the words of the dream to one of Ambassador Delenn's aides. I wouldn't violate your confidentiality."

"How do you know that they couldn't figure it out, they're not morons!" She was really angry now. That was all she needed, the Minbari ambassador snooping into her subconscious. There were more than enough Minbari who had had a look into her mind.

"Havah…I'm sorry, I didn't know that they had taken you aboard, I don't think that they know anything because—"

"I thought confidentiality meant that you couldn't give any information that could identify the person? Well, they can identify me if I am one of like nine people or so that they messed with, and all the sudden, someone shows up spouting Minbari dreams at them!…" She was livid.

The counselor sighed. "You have every reason to be angry, but the person I spoke to was just intrigued, he didn't appear to connect it to anything else. Do you want to know what he said about the language?"

As angry as she was, she did. Very, very much. Havah sat silently and glared at the counselor, waiting for her to reply.

"He said that not only was it a Minbari language, but a very ancient one. A dialect of the Warrior Caste, and he was even able to tell me what clans it came from, I think he said it was from the Star Riders and the Moon Shields, from the northern continent."

Her stomach was hurting now, and a wave of nausea swept over her. "Did the military do something to me when I was aboard?"

"I don't think so, Havah. He also told me that it was a language that hadn't been spoken for 800 years."

"So…so how did it get in my head?" She was shaking with anger.

"Here's the only explanation I can come up with. You said that they erased memories, after they brought you aboard. When a telepath goes into someone's mind, especially if it is a deep scan, the person can be more suggestive, just like with hypnosis, that's one of the reasons they have to train telepaths so carefully. It is possible that there was something going on at the same time, that you inadvertently absorbed."

"But I thought you said that it hasn't been spoken for a millennium."

"Not in conversation, no. But it is still used in myth and in books."

"Why would they be discussing myths or reading old books in the middle of a battle?"

"I don't know, Havah, it is the only thing I can come up with. I can't imagine any more rationally why they would intentionally plant a dead language in your head, especially considering how nationalistic the Minbari Warrior Caste appear to be. My guess would be that they would be unhappy for non-Minbari to know this language. Knowledge is power, and so you know something about them. If they were to use this language in front of you thinking that no Human would understand, who might understand modern Minbari, it's possible that a part of you might understand, even if only subconsciously. That is a disadvantage for them. We are allies now, but that doesn't change their nationalism. It is unlikely that they would have done this intentionally."

"So what now, now that they know that someone does know. What if they find out and come after me?" She felt sick.

"They don't. And even if they did, they can't afford that, Havah. This peace is as important to them as it is to us. They've invested a lot in the station. That's the impression that I've gotten from everything I've read and heard. For the military to attack a civilian, even in secret, it would be discovered, and then it would come out that you were in the war. It would look like a grudge match, and I don't think their government would stand for that. Ours wouldn't, it's too obvious, it would look too dishonorable. I think that public relations are really crucial right now."

Havah wasn't at all convinced, but there was nothing she could do now.

"What might have happened is that, sometimes when people are in extremely traumatic situations, they separate parts of themselves that they are not comfortable with. So if you wound up with this language or knowledge of the Minbari in your mind, you might have diverted that knowledge from the main parts of your personality until you were comfortable enough to address them."

"What, like multiple personality disorder?"

"We don't really use that term for it anymore, but something like that. It is a dissociation, not really a total and uniquely autonomous entity. It's not like demonic possession, which is how that whole theory began. It's much simpler than that. You can still be you, and when you are dreaming about this woman, you can still be you, just that the information that you are trying to resolve is separated from your waking life or normal functioning to make it easier to deal with."

"You know what, I can't do this right now." Havah got up. There were too many things rolling around her head and she wasn't inclined to trust this woman anymore, or anybody for that matter. And now she would anticipate going around every corner that some pissed off Minbari soldier was going to try to eliminate her as a threat. And on top of that, this woman, who hadn't had the sense to consult her before taking her problem to someone she already didn't trust, was falling back on psycho-babble. _I'll work out my own problems from now on, thank you very much,_ she thought.

"Havah, I know you're upset—"

"Upset? Yeah, I'm upset, you should have asked my permission first. I should report you, I'm pretty sure that you weren't supposed to do that, but right now I don't care. I just don't want to be here anymore. I'm done." She punched the side panel and the door slid open and she stormed out, not even looking back.

Joan wanted to cry. She should have thought this out more. She hadn't known enough of this woman's story, and it really hadn't occurred to her that the Minbari could ever find out anything about this woman, with no details. Certainly, the diplomatic office wouldn't be interested at some random client having nightmares. Was it possible, or just this woman's understandable paranoia? Could she have jeopardized Havah's privacy, or even her life? She still didn't think it was possible, but she did know Havah was a veteran, and in all of her dealings with veterans, she should have known better. Havah had had horrible experiences with the Minbari. Of course she didn't trust them. Whether her fears were realistic or not, she should have told Havah what she meant to do. That was part of informed consent, but her curiosity had erased her judgment. She also very much wanted to help her and she honestly didn't know how to do that. This woman was such a mystery. She sat miserably in her office and cried.

Havah headed for the Zocalo, still fuming, and then realized how much hot chocolate, and chocolate milk and chocolate brownies and other products she'd been having since a couple of weeks ago, and headed instead for observation deck to do some Tai Chi.When she got to the observation deck, she saw with dismay that there were a few people there, which wouldn't have irked her, except that one of them was Ambassador Delenn. She turned around to go somewhere else, but Delenn had seen her and called out.

"Miss Lassee. I do not mean to disturb you, I only wanted to ask you a question, about Humans?"

Havah sighed and turned around and smiled at the ambassador. Her pissy mood wasn't the ambassador's fault. "Yes, Ambassador, ask away."

"After our conversation, I have been studying some more about your Earth religions, I very much wish to learn more about Humanity, and I learned recently that there is a holiday tonight, for some Humans, for Jewish Humans, called Rosh Hashannah. I read that it is the New Year and that it is the first of eight days of Atonement. I also read that on this day, they blow the…shofar…in memory of a part of your history. I remembered that you were Jewish and so I was wondering if you could explain some things to me? What are the Ten Days of Atonement, or is this too impolite to ask? I will understand. Why is this at the beginning of the year? What is a ram? What is an angel?" Delenn smiled in fascination, battering Havah with questions.

Havah laughed. This woman was insatiable, but she was Religious Caste, so it made sense that she was curious. She admitted to herself that aside from the caste system, and what Delenn and Trell had told her, she knew almost nothing about Minbari culture, or religion. And she was beginning to want to know more. "A ram is a big wooly animal, an adult male sheep. They are sort of like cows in that they graze and have cloven hooves. They live in mountainous regions, while cattle live in pasture land. They are both domesticated animals."

"They are kosher?"

"Yes. An animal is kosher if they chew their cud and have cloven hooves. They aren't kosher if they have cloven hooves but don't chew their cud."

"Why?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I don't know how they made those distinctions. That's a question for someone who knows the Torah better than I do." Havah said sheepishly. "Sorry I can't enlighten you about that. The Ten Days of Atonement are at the beginning of the year because that is also the end of the old year. Atonement is for anything that you might have done wrong in the previous year to yourself, to God, or to someone else. When it is to someone else, you are required to ask for forgiveness three times, and if by the third time, the person still does not forgive you, then the sin, or the burden of the wrong, shifts to the person who would not forgive, and you are released from it. Each year, we do this, so that we can start the new year with a clean slate and that makes it easier to be a better person without all of our old mistakes hanging around. An angel is a being created by God to do His/Her/Its work. They are not Human, and not even on the same scale as you or I, or any other alien I know of. We can't relate to them, they are too powerful. Also, they don't have free will. Do you know what I mean?"

"Free will…"

"Yes. Humans vacillate between the concept that we determine our own paths and make our own choices between right and wrong, or between any of a million different or possible paths through life, and the concept that our paths through life are pre-determined by some outside force. This concept we call destiny. Humans also believe in destiny, an ordered Universe in which everything happens as it is planned to happen. Some people believe that we have both free will and destiny, and that we exist between these two poles, able to make some decisions for ourselves and choose our own way, but that our ultimate end is determined. Like any number of paths to the same destination, like gilgul or gehenna. Ultimately we will get where we are meant to be, but which road we take is up to us and will determine how long it will take us to get there. But angels are like machines, created strictly as servants of the Universe, they have no free will, no personalities. They are like very powerful computer subroutines, except that they cannot be corrupted since they are perfect, or so the myths tell us. So they carry out the will of God in forms that Humans or other species can tolerate, since according to the myths no one can bear the full presence of God. So they act as messengers, and punishers, executioners, and as rescuers. They are known by everyone and signify upon sight, a paramount act of the Universe."

"So that is why the angel in the story gave…Abraham…the message to not kill his son?"

"Yes. He tested Abraham to see how loyal he would be, but He wanted him to know that it was not necessary to sacrifice his child. But, if He had shown up Himself to tell him, Abraham's head would probably have exploded, so He sent an angel and told him to use a ram instead of his son. That's the story anyway."

"Why was such a sacrifice required at first?"

"Again, I don't know how to answer that question. I'm not really a scholar. But there are books written that analyze that very topic. I can dig one up and lend it to you if you want. Actually, there are so many questions which I have no clue how to answer, that it might be good, if you are curious, to come to the service tonight. No one would mind you going. It is going to be televised in conference room Blue Three, since there's no one on Babylon 5 with a shofar."

Delenn smiled. "I would very much like to go. But you must instruct me on how to behave in an appropriate manner for your customs."

"I'll come to your quarters and explain on the way there, there's not much really."

"Thank you!" She bowed.

"Sure, I'll see you at 1800 hours."

She met Delenn, who had donned a brilliant blue embroidered robe, open in front with long silk trailers at the shoulders, belted at the waist over a pale silky brocade undergarment. _Well, they certainly know how to dress more attractively than boring business wear_, she thought. They talked on the way. "There's not much really, just sit when people are sitting, stand when people are standing, except during the Mourner's Kaddesh. Then, only people who are in mourning stand, but I'll let you know when they are at that prayer. The service is in Hebrew, but there are English translations on the other side of the page from all of the Hebrew prayers. If you drop a prayer book, just pick it up and kiss the binding. That's a gesture of respect for the book. People drop stuff all the time, except the Torah, but we don't have one here, not a kosher one. So we have what we call a Chumash. This book. It's a book version of the Torah so that we can follow along when the rabbi reads from the scroll on the bimah." Havah pulled out an aqua faux-leather bound book with gold-leaf, an old Art Scroll edition her parents had given her. They stood inside the door of the conference room as people shmoozed before the service. She handed Delenn the book.

Delenn took it reverently and skimmed the pages lightly with the fingers of one hand. "This is a beautiful book. This is Hebrew?"

"Sort of. It's Aramaic. A Canaanite language, from a Western Semitic root language, from a region called Canaan, about 6000 years old, I think. I'm a bit hazy on dates. It's related to Arabic, though that comes from a slightly different branch. It's much older than modern Hebrew or Arabic. It…it's no longer spoken, not for like, 2000 years. But it is the language of the Torah, or one of them anyway…and so we learn to speak it and read it, and most of the old commentaries on the Torah are also written in Aramaic. The last Temple was destroyed, but before that, there was the King, who was the embodiment of the nation, the priests who performed all of the rituals and prayed for the nation, and there was also the Sanhedrin. They were like a court of law, where laws are discussed and interpreted, like what your father did. There was no creation of new laws, because all of the laws that anyone needed had been handed down complete. But as time went by, the old laws needed to be re-interpreted to accommodate new situations, or merely consulted concerning situations that hadn't arisen before. The Sanhedrin made commentaries, in Aramaic, and remained the experts of the rememberance and interpretation of the Law. So that, when the Diaspora, or the Scattering happened, when the Temple was destroyed, people didn't follow the priests, they followed the members of the Sanhedrin, the lawyers, because they were the ones who knew all of the fine points of the Law, and had preserved it in their memories. So their students and others, followed them from place to place and settled where they settled. They took students who would adopt their role when they died, so that someday, when there was a Temple again, all of the Law, ritual and culture, could be resurrected from the memories. These are the rabbis. Rabbis are teachers. They were the disciples or students after generations on down, of those original members of the Sanhedrin. A rabbi isn't a priest, although he can be from the priestly caste. He doesn't perform the ritual sacrifices as the priests would, because they have to be performed in the Temple and with the Jewish nation in observance. We are scattered now across the galaxy. And the rabbi doesn't pray for everyone. Everyone prays. He merely teaches and leads the prayer services. Everything has been written down in unbelievable detail for this purpose, all of our history. People study their whole lives and only learn a small part of it. We're very fastidious that way, and have learned over centuries how to remember things. The Torah has particular melody specified by markings, partly because of metaphysical reasons, the whole vibration concept, but part of it, is that melody is a good mnemonic device. The shofar is used to remind us of these tales too, but it also draws people together and binds them. You'll understand when you hear it."

Delenn's face was awe-struck. "This is so complex. I knew that Humans were complicated, but I never appreciated…again, much of what you describe is similar to aspects of my culture." She looked bemused.

Havah motioned as the service linked in and people assembled and took out their Siddurim. Delenn paid avid attention to every prayer, reading the English voraciously. Havah could see all of the questions building up behind her face. Until the blowing of the Shofar.

"Tekiaaaaah!" The horn emitted one very long powerful blast.

"Shvarim!" Three shorter blasts.

"Shvarim-Truah!" Three shorter blasts and nine staccato notes.

"Tekiaahhh!" Again the long wailing blast. Even through a screen on which the horn had been blown thousands of light years away, the sound was riveting. This was truly the only reason that Havah went to high holy day services, that sound. It reached into the most primal part of her and awakened something as irrefusable as wind or the tide. And she knew from the look on Delenn's face, that she had felt the same. She had been silent during the whole service, absorbing. But the silence in her face now was different, fiercer, because what she had absorbed had been the psychic or spiritual equivalent of a million volts of raw energy, and had evoked something most people never felt in a day, a week, a year, or their whole lives. She leaned over to Delenn and explained. "The shofar isn't just blown in commemoration of the myth. In later years it was used to call the nation together, for prayer, or war. It was used to knock down the walls of a city once. They marched around the city of Jericho seven times, blowing the horn, and the walls fell down. It was a call to war in the most dire times." Ice ran through Havah's veins as she spoke. A call to war. What had her dream been about? A war. Creatures that ate souls, that whispered to people in their heads. 1000 years, someone had said in the dream. They wouldn't be around again for 1000 years, but when was that? Had that dream been about now, or about a few years from now, or 1000 years ago, or never, just the spitting of neurons into her slumbering mind? What she had witnessed at the bar had been no dream. Was there something terrible, defeated and festering out in the deep? She didn't hear the rest of the service, ruminating about the dream.

At the conclusion of the service, she managed to pull herself out of reverie and said "Good Yontif " to people, explaining to Delenn what that meant. And then Havah guided her towards the enormous platters of food that had been set out, following the service, all sparking more questions from Delenn. Another reason Havah liked services sometimes. The food. Delenn spoke again after a lengthy contemplation. "It is a great symbol, this horn, this shofar. A calling together of nations, to war, to prayer, to ceremony…" She continued to pick at her small plate of food. "This culture is very interesting…And the scroll the man read from on the screen, this is a Torah?"

"Yes, it is our most sacred document, containing all of our history, and some believe, the history of the universe, even the future." Havah directed Delenn to a man whom she knew studied and attended services on a regular basis. "Ambassador Delenn, I'd like to introduce you to Moshe Horowitz. Mr. Horowitz, this is Ambassador Delenn. She is of the Religious Caste on Minbar, and was very curious about Judaism. Since I'm not particularly religious, I wasn't able to answer some questions. And I know that you are well versed in the Chumash, so I thought I'd direct her to you."

The wiry man smiled charmingly at Delenn. "Well, Ambassador, it is an honor to meet you. Of course, any question that you do not know the answer to, you are obligated to ask. That is what we believe."

"Ahhh…" Delenn smiled.

_Oh boy, we'll be here all night._ Havah grinned and went back for a hefty plate of smoked fish. An hour and a half later, Havah walked Delenn back to her quarters.

"Thank you, Havah. It was an honor to witness this ceremony. Thank you for sharing it, and your knowledge of it." She bowed.

"You're quite welcome, Ambassador. It's nice that you are interested. I'm proud of my culture, as remiss as I am in observing it, and it's nice to see someone else appreciate it."

"Good…Yontif, Havah."

Havah grinned. "Good Yontif, Ambassador."

The Minbari ambassador heard the shofar that night in her dreams and shivered.

*Reference: Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes


	6. Chapter 6

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 6: Reunion

The Minbari war-frigate Ingata sat off of the port bow like a great striped lionfish, bristling poison spines. The gun-ports were open. The Minbari ambassador arrived in time to notify C&C and an agitated Commander Sinclair, that the condition of the gun-ports was a symbol to recognize the death of one of their generals. Commander Sinclair sighed and agreed, to the consternation of his Chief of Security, to be present at the procession to greet the incoming funeral party. But, he was getting tired of mollifying diplomats. This was C&C, this was his command post, no civilian had a place here. And while he had been grateful that she had been there to explain the Minbari captain's effrontery, he was less than thrilled at who was being honored in this way. Shai Alyt Branmer, the man responsible for atomizing his entire team and thousands of others during the Battle of the Line, one of the most powerful generals in the Minbari military, had died suddenly of illness, while traveling. His second-in-command had taken it upon himself to honor his general in the style he saw fit, and was displaying the body to all the Minbari within the radius of their travels.

Delenn left C&C irritated. She had managed to get Sinclair to attend the ceremony, only because of his obvious sense of diplomacy, but Alyt Neroon had done nothing to make that easier. _Typical! To immediately begin relations with the Humans with a barely-veiled challenge, and this at a station where he expected to be hosted with courtesy! What was he thinking? Warriors! Branmer never would have approved of this, Star Rider or not! _

After years in service as a High Priest, Branmer had joined his father's caste and clan, the Warrior Caste Star Riders, during the War with the Humans. But when they were given the order to surrender, he had obeyed the order. And though he never agreed, he had never questioned the decision and had seemed to understand what was at stake in peace. He alone, of all of the Warrior Caste she could think of, had attempted to set up missions that would open up diplomatic relations between the Minbari and other worlds, despite his misgivings of Humans. His bellicose aide did not appear to share his point of view, and certainly did not display the same social grace. If Branmer had indeed been merely playing along with the Grey Council, and been, how did the Humans put it, 'blowing smoke up their hindquarters' then Alyt Neroon had no intention of being so acquiescent, at least not where she was concerned. Grey Council or not, she knew he had always despised her. He made no secret of his opinion of her, of her apprenticeship to Dukhat, or of her appointment to the Grey Council. In fact he had pushed as far as he could in the expression of his view, almost to the point of disrespect to the Council, just after the end of the War with the Humans, with scathing criticism of any and every comment she made outside of Council chambers, reverting, of course, to impeccable decorum when directly questioned. He was brutally honest, but not completely without political savvy, and had backed off for a time, when he saw it was not working in his favor. And then he had re-doubled his political commentary and lobbying now that she was here on Babylon 5, reined in only by Branmer's mediation skills, and Neroon's unwavering respect for his commanding officer. But that calming influence was now gone. What would their encounter be like, she wondered. He would not openly disrespect a member of the Gray Council, even here, because it would certainly reach home, but she had a nasty feeling it was going to be a constant grueling struggle with him. He had been very close to Branmer and was not likely to be in the mood for anything except a fight, in one manner or another. If he were not permitted to strike at the Humans, then she would be the next most likely outlet for his hostility.

She sighed and pushed the chime on Havah Lassee's door. She was not relishing this conversation either. She liked this young woman. Along with the Commander, she had been one of the most intriguing Humans Delenn had met. Their assessment of her at the Battle of the Line not only appeared to be unfolding as they believed it would, but she was an interesting blend of the incarnation that they had seen, and nothing at all what any of them would have expected. Observation of this woman and Sinclair were turning out to be one of the most interesting tasks she had ever undertaken. But underneath Havah's friendliness, she sensed a distrust, an aloofness, a cold silent watcher. _Well, I suppose that I cannot blame her. Did we think that a warrior would not notice sooner or later that she was being observed?_ Sometimes, she sensed the same quality in Sinclair, although he was more practiced at masking it.

Havah answered, smiling but looking harried. "Ambassador. Is there something I can do for you?"

She stepped into Havah's office, peering curiously at the wreckage of paper and electro-pads, and the cartoons stuck akimbo on the walls with blue fun-tack. _40 Things You'll Never Hear a Texan Say…What is a Texan? The Addams Family…Why does the little girl's doll have no head? Could they not get her a new doll? There is an extra hand in the drawing…_ She pulled her attention away and returned to Havah's bemused gaze. "I do not know if you were aware, but one of our generals, Shai Alyt Branmer has died. It happened a week ago en route to the Euphrates sector. His aide has brought the body here to honor him. The ceremony will be later, and the cortege is preparing to board soon. I understand that you are very busy, but since you were one of the soldiers to stand against him on the Line, it would mean a great deal to the Minbari aboard the station, as a sign of mutual respect and desire for peace, if you would be present when they arrive, to honor his passing. Commander Sinclair and the command staff are assisting with the preparations for the ceremony. Please attend."

The woman's whole body language changed, from distraction, to that closed quiet regard. She answered icily, her back rigid. "I'll be there, Ambassador. When?" The use of the formal address, was now intentional and distancing, while before it had been merely automatic and respectful.

"They will arrive in half an hour, so I must prepare for their arrival in docking bay 12."

"Very well, I will see you there."

Delenn bowed and Havah bowed back, precisely the same duration and depth. Delenn had noticed that when this woman was angry, she often grew more formal, and quieter. Far more disconcerting than someone who blustered their opinions to anyone listening. _It is often the quiet ones who are the most dangerous_, she thought. _This one certainly was during the War. No one looking at her would have suspected that she could have killed so many of our soldiers, particularly not in ground combat. She was half the size of most of them and had to have been less than half the strength, considering her humanity. And yet…_there were times when Delenn could have sworn that this woman was Minbari, if it had not been for her wild black hair and casual manner. She even had facial features that seemed more characteristic of Delenn's people than most Humans, the brow-ridge mostly. Delenn left to prepare, shaking off the discomfort of the interchange.

_Frag!_ Havah thought, staring at the Delenn's receding back. _I have stuff to do, but now I have to put it off to cater to a group of people that I hoped never to see again for the rest of my life, in order to honor someone who tried to destroy everyone and everything I care about. How is that fair? What exactly is the definition of diplomacy? Doormat! Well, if it really means that much to the Minbari, I guess it would be a good idea not to alienate them at this point. Just what we need! A shipload of grieving xenophobic Minbari warriors running all over the station. I remember what happened the last time they lost someone they respected. But they had damn well better appreciate the gesture and how much it costs us to do this. They may have surrendered, but surrender isn't an expression of remorse, and it's also not a resolution to not repeat the same actions._ _And I won't trust them until that occurs. Surrender, my ass! People who truly surrender don't make as many demands as they have made. And I was there. If they surrendered, it wasn't because they were losing._ Havah slammed the pad down on the desk and flounced out of the room towards docking bay 12. She was going to see the area before they got there and scope out a place where she could be out of the way, and maybe slip away and return to work unnoticed.

_You're lucky that my guns were not aimed at your inconsequential little station, Commander!_ Neroon thought savagely, with particular sarcasm concerning the address of Commander_. It's bad enough that the Shai Alyt is dead, but to be surrounded by those barely-sentient beasts for days, will be taxing at best._ And thinking of taxing, Dukhat's chosen brat would be there. He had respected Dukhat greatly, but no one he knew had understood Dukhat's choice in an aide. It wasn't just that she was Religious Caste. Dukhat had been Religious Caste, so it was not surprising that he chose someone from his own caste, but HER, that impudent child? Not only was she sheltered, useless, and spoiled, but she was imperious and arrogant, and would drive them all to ruin with her flaunting of tradition and obvious disregard for the counsel of seasoned military officers, and lack of appreciation for the sacrifices of the Warrior Caste! She had no understanding of such things, and made no attempt to. She had demonstrated this by her behavior during the war with the Humans. _Satai! And ambassador! What have we resorted to?_ _Still, Branmer must be honored, and there are Minbari here who deserve to see him one last time, if only as a bastion of former Minbari integrity before it disappears completely in a puff of Religious Caste incense._ He finished the preparations for boarding, stomach growling from his fast. _If they attempt to sabotage this mission, they will not live to regret it, and this time there will be no reprieve._

Minbari Warrior Caste ceremonies were nothing like the obtuse understated ceremonies of their Religious Caste. They were direct. The insistent drums and almost-Oriental lyre-like instrument kept a simple military pace for the pall-bearers, carrying a crafted crystal coffin, preceded by lower-ranking standard-bearers. Before and after the coffin, the standard-bearers lifted flags with the sigil the general's clan, as they approached the waiting by-standers. Following the first standard-bearers and before the coffin, stalked a man with the uniform of an officer, the general's aide, the ship's captain. Havah peered through a small crowd at the approaching coffin and wondered what Branmer had looked like. She had never seen this man, the bane of her existence, on the Line. Maybe Delenn had been right, that this was a good idea, not just for the Minbari, but for the Humans who had had to face this man. _Here he is dead, proof that he was just as vulnerable as the rest of us, his power reduced to clay, just like any other Human._ She couldn't see him though, just a blurry shadow in the frosted coffin. She glanced up at Branmer's officer who approached with his black hood up. All he needed was a mask and he could have doubled as an executioner of old France. His face. There was something about his face, about the line of his jaw. His eyes were in the shadow of the hood. She watched him as he passed and approached Delenn, and the command staff farther away, and removed his hood to speak. And then she knew. The eyes, that was what always got her about faces, if nothing else sparked her talent at recognition. She knew those eyes, the same coal black as hers, the same deep-set intensity. They were the eyes that had stared at her from the sketches in her drawer. This was the face of the man her mother had drawn, the man her mother had believed must be her father. This man who had been the officer of the general who had destroyed thousands of Humans in one battle, it was his blood that coursed through her. Her knees almost buckled, and she leaned back against the bulk-head until her legs regained their steadiness. A couple of Minbari looked at her curiously.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, do you happen to know the name of the soldier that just went by, the officer?"

"That is Alyt Neroon. He is…was the second in command of the Ingata, Shai Alyt Branmer's primary ship. He was Branmer's aide."

"Oh…do you happen to know his family name, I mean, his aide?"

"I believe he is from the family of Callier, but I am not certain."

She had heard that before, or seen it. No one would notice if she was gone, so she went back to her quarters and pulled out the sketches again. It was him. The face of Branmer's officer was haggard with strain, and older than he had appeared in the sketch, but thirty years had passed and the structure of his face was the same. The eyes were unmistakable. She located the tiny name at the bottom of one of them. Neroon Calear. _DAMN!_ She looked up into the mirror, at the haunted black eyes that stared back at her, shadowed slightly by the bone ridge at her nose. She analyzed her features. She had her mother's aquiline Semitic nose and her sable hair, but most of the rest of her face was from him, square jaw, dark eyes, although hers were larger, like her mother's. Havah's skin was swarthier than his, a true combination in genome between his pale skin and her mother's darkness. Her mother's ancestors would have thought of him as a djinn, a daemon, and maybe that's what he was, having been responsible for the death of thousands of her mother's kind. 'Daughter of a demon-lover, empress of the hidden face,' that's how the old Rush song went, didn't it? The Executioner's daughter. And no one knew, no one could possibly tell by looking at her, without prior knowledge. She had no crest wreathing her head. She reached up to the mirror and traced her fingers down the image reflected there, then pulled her hair out of the pony-tail holder she always wore, and let it spill down around her arms and back. Parted in the middle and all one length, it looked like a heavy black satin veil with little wisps escaping from the rest and curling around her temples like frayed edges. She had thought that she wanted to know more about her father, and now she did. She really couldn't complain could she?

_Well, I really need to know for sure. All I have are sketches, and a name in a thirty-year old journal. I need to know for sure, scientifically. How the hell am I going to get that? I would need to have someone test my DNA and his. No one knows that my father was Minbari, and if anyone knew that it was him…I can't exactly walk up to that Minbari officer and ask him to stick a swab in his mouth!_ _He was wearing gloves. Does he wear those all the time? If not, I could dust where he's been for skin flakes. That would be enough._ _And what the hell am I going to do with this information if I get it anyway? It's pretty obvious that telling him that I'm his kid, if that is true, is not an option. Not only is his reaction likely to be negative in a variety of ways, but what would that do to either one of us if anyone else found out? What are the penalties for such things on his world? I know what they would be on mine. Hatred, discrimination._ _And while I don't know if I could ever come to terms with our respective pasts, I didn't come here to ruin his life. Whatever he did ten years ago, he did save my mother's life. Maybe there is some explanation, but I doubt if either of us will ever get to a point where I'll get to hear it, _Havah mourned. There were two messages waiting, which she had ignored. She told the computer to play messages. The first one displayed the face of the counselor. She deleted the message before more than her name could escape the counselor's lips. The second was from her mother, berating her for having failed to call or write as she had asked Havah to do when the package arrived. _Crap! I meant to call…_

"This is your mother, being hurt and angry. I know that you are busy, and I know that you are probably angry with me because of the journal, but I didn't know what else to do! I did the best that I could, and sometimes I could only guess at what that was. And I'm just your mother, and I love you, and all I can do is try my best to make you happy. You are so far away, and even when you're here, you are so distant. And all I can do is worry, you know. I asked you just to call once, even if you leave a message. For all I know the package is lost! It was Rosh Hashannah and you never called, it was Yom Kippur and you never called…You have no idea what this does to me to not even hear from you on the High Holy Days!" The face on the screen crumpled into tears. _Oh boy_, Havah thought. She stored the rest of the long, long message and called her mom. Her mom answered, the rims of her eyes still red.

"Mom, I'm really sorry. I'm not angry at you, not at all, I just…I'm just a moron and I forgot." _No, that didn't come out right, I didn't mean that I forgot…_ "Not about you…I mean…I just…time got away from me. It always does, it's always been like that, it didn't mean that I…*sigh*. I love you too, mom. I'm sorry I didn't call. The package got here fine, and thank you for sending it and the pictures of you and dad…and all the newspaper clippings. Are you ok?"

Mrs. Goldman sniffled. "Yes, I'm fine, better now that I'm hearing from my daughter. I'm sorry I lost my cool on your message machine. You know I don't like to do that, and I hesitate to call because I want to give you your space, I was just feeling very hurt."

"*Sigh*, I know, mom, that came through loud and clear. I am sorry. I'll try to call more often, it's just hard with the time difference and all. I don't mind any time you want to call, you're not intruding. I have several thousand light years of space, that's plenty. Babylon 5 was just a great opportunity, it's not like I was escaping. I know that's what you think, but I like it here."

"I know."

"How are Dad and Tovah? You said that dad lost weight. How is Tovah liking Peabody?"

"Your father has been working so hard! It's amazing, he has so much more energy now, I'll put him on in a few minutes. Tovah likes some of her classes, and others not so much. She met a very nice young man! I'll give you her number in Baltimore so that you can call and congratulate her…"

No phone-call like this was ever a few minutes, but that was alright. Somehow, talking to the people who had always been her family, had been just what she needed. A slight line rolled across the screen, barely visible, but these little technological blips annoyed her, especially when she was paying for a good connection. She tapped the screen irritably. As if that would help. Why was it that she could never get a decent connection, no matter where she was, at the university in New York, or Colorado. A slight shiver raised bumps on her arms. Interference. She shook off unease. After the call, she decided to ring her sister later, and put a sticky-note on the screen to remind herself. She took a last glance at the sketches and the picture of her mother and put them away, resolving to learn more about this mysterious warrior, more about his caste, since it was obvious that caste in Minbari society seemed to be a defining characteristic. Caste was an odd concept to her, and while she knew of castes on Earth, and even had known of a loose system in the culture she had been raised with, she had not lived it. She wanted to know more. But she didn't want to approach Alyt Neroon. There was a ceremony to be held tomorrow, so she went to Sinclair's office, knowing that he would be going. On the way, she almost walked into the very object of her fascination. He looked as though he was going to snap someone's head off with a single gloved hand. She stood back and let him pass, his two security men striding behind him. They didn't look friendly either. She tentatively peeked into the Commander's office. He was there with Garibaldi, and neither of them looked cheerful.

"Hi. Is this a bad time?"

"Yes and no. It's not going to be a good time until Shai Alyt Branmer's escort has left the station. Come in."

"Oh…that bad? I saw Alyt Neroon leaving here. He wasn't looking too amiable. Did something happen?"

The commander sighed and Garibaldi rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his spiky hair, giving her a 'You wouldn't believe it,' look. Garibaldi spoke, "He demanded his own security on the room where they're keeping Branmer. Said he didn't want 'Humans'," he curled his lip in imitation of Neroon's snarl, "interfering with his staff! Started trying to provoke us, obviously, talking about the Line! I'm telling you, this guy's spoiling for a fight."

"Last I checked this was still our damn station," the Commander said irascibly, "but…we're trying to be diplomatic and show them courtesy. They are grieving after all." He gave Michael a sedate look. "And frankly, I don't have the time to engage in a pissing contest…What can I do for you, Havah?"

"Eh…wow. I just wanted to find out more about the ceremony and everything. Considering everything going on, I didn't want to ask the Ambassador. My guess is she's got her hands full too, and I'd rather ask you anyway."

Sinclair laughed, dark face lightening. "I don't blame you. The ceremony is going to be in the Green Room tomorrow at 1000 hours. He's lying in state in Conference Room A down the hall from there, but I would recommend avoiding it. Garibaldi is right, it does look like they're spoiling for a fight, and no one needs that headache."

"Thanks." She left. And headed for the Conference Room. They had just told her to avoid it, she knew, but she wasn't going to get in their way, she just wanted to look at the security men. She had never seen a Minbari soldier that close, who was not trying to kill her, although that might change if she wasn't careful. And now, curiosity was consuming her. Maybe G'Kar was right about humans having to stick their fingers into everything just to see the reaction. Two black-clad warriors flanked the door, like marble statues. She guessed that they were not supposed to react, any more than the Beefeaters that guarded Buckingham Palace. But these soldiers looked meaner. She stifled the urge to wave at them, or snap in their faces just to see if they would blink. But she had the nasty suspicion that they would shoot out an arm, quick as a fly's tongue and rip her trachea out before she could say 'Gotcha!' She just stood for a few minutes looking at them, studying the details of their uniforms and facial features. A rough hand clapped down on her shoulder and whirled her around, and she found herself staring into the face of the angry Alyt. "You have no business here, Human! You had better explain your presence here!" His eyes bored into her, and his iron hand dug into her elbow.

Her eyes were wide, staring into his, trying to read anything in their depths. Her knees were shaking. She had been startled, and when she answered, her voice was tremulous. "Sorry. I've never seen a Minbari soldier that close before, I was just curious."

The muscles of his cheek twitched and his lips barely moved in a face rigid with antipathy. His voice was deep and scathing. "Curiosity was nearly a fatal trait for your race ten years ago, did you think you would fare better this time?"

She blinked. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? What had she thought an encounter with him was going to be like? "N—no…I'm sorry…for your loss. I don't know what else to say."

He looked into her eyes, and moved so that his body blocked the other two security men, glowering down at her, breastplate an inch from her nose. "Say nothing, I am not interested in your words. Do not show your face here again." She backed away and left. _That could have gone better_, she thought, elbow smarting where he'd gripped it. She went to her quarters and didn't go out for the rest of the night.

_Horrid little beast!_ _What in Valen's name was she doing here, staring at my men?_ _Who is she? _Neroon thought vehemently. _And this, immediately after I expressed that no one but Minbari are to come near this area! Is this the kind of ineptitude that we can expect from 'station security' or was this an intentional violation, out of spite? Either way, it will not occur again._ He strode determinedly towards Garibaldi's office. _Perhaps I did not make myself clear. I will not abide Shai Alyt Branmer being disrespected in this manner. _He shook his head and lit into Garibaldi as soon as their eyes met.

The man looked as though he would have slipped away, if there had been any way of doing so. But this issue was not to be ignored. "Mr. Garibaldi! I specified that there were to be no Humans in the area where Shai Alyt Branmer's body was lying in state. And so the first thing I saw, in attending to the arrangements, was a Human woman, gawking at the men I set on guard! There had better be a sufficient explanation!"

Garibaldi bristled at Neroon's tone. "Look, Alyt Neroon, I can't give you an explanation unless you give me more details. Why don't you tell me what she looked like."

"She looked like a Human, Mr. Garibaldi, very much like other Humans!"

Garibaldi sighed, "Hair color, height, weight, any distinguishing characteristics?"

"Small woman, long black…hair, is that what you call it? All the way down her back. She was wearing a long brown skirt with embroidery at the hem."

Garibaldi sighed again. _Dammit!_ He knew exactly who that had been. _Havah! What the hell was she thinking! They had just told her not to go there. Was she trying to cause problems, trying to start another war? Trying to give him heartburn?_ "Alyt Neroon, I'm very sorry. I know who it was, and I know she was just curious—"

"Really!" He drawled sarcastically. "And as I told her, curiosity got your people killed ten years ago, I would advise that you take a lesson from that! And how many other 'curious' Humans am I going to find when I return? I will not be as generous with them as I was with this woman."

"Hold it right there, Alyt! I hope that wasn't a threat. Whatever you think of Humans or our hospitality, I am here to keep the peace, and if I find it necessary, I will have you thrown in the brig as a matter of security! I don't want to do that, you're being an 'honored guest' and all, but I will!"

Neroon walked up into Garibaldi's space and stood nose to nose. "Do not assume that you could, Mr. Garibaldi."

Garibaldi didn't budge an inch, and his eyes never wavered from Neroon's dark gaze. "We will do whatever we have to, Alyt. But we have been trying to help."

"We don't need your help! Keep your people out of my way. It was a simple requirement. Are you so incompetent that you cannot attend to it? If you know her, then what is her name?"

"Alyt, I won't have you intimidating her—"

"Her name!"

"I don't take orders from you, Alyt! Look, I'm pretty damn sure that she's too freaked out by you to come near any of you again. I will talk to her for you and make sure she understands."

"She had better, or I will assume that any continued harassment is an indication of your lack of respect." He turned and stalked down the corridor. Michael watched his long coat wave, and wished he hadn't gotten out of bed. _What did I tell Jeff, nothing but trouble._

At 1800 hours, Garibaldi paid her a visit. He was looking imminently annoyed. "I thought we told you to stay away from there. I just got a visit from our favorite Minbari, and he tried to tell me what they were going to do if he found another Human near the conference room. I don't take threats on my station, but I shouldn't have had to defend you! What the hell were you thinking? It's bad enough that we have to cater to this guy, but I didn't think we'd have to baby-sit you too!"

Havah wanted to cry. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I just..I was just really curious. I can't explain why…I, it was stupid, and I won't do it again." Her eyes filled with tears. _Crap, don't do this now, Havah,_ she thought.

Garibaldi's reaction was similar. "No, no, don't do that. What's going on with you lately? I know I don't know you very well, but we've been in meetings together, and Jeff talks about you sometimes. He thinks you're really smart, and put-together, so what's going on? Is it the War? I know you were there. You know, I know this counselor that's really great—"

_Why is it that everyone always suggests counseling, am I that looney? I guess lately…_"No…I'm ok. I guess it is the War. But I've been to counselors and they don't work for me. Thanks though. I won't flake out anymore. I'm just going to stay here tonight. I was asked to go to the ceremony tomorrow, but I'll hang in the back and then go back to work. I'll stay away from them until they leave."

"Alright. Well, consider yourself notified. If you want to go out for a drink and talk, just give me a ring. Or if you change your mind and want the number of that counselor." He left and she buried her face in her hands, and then flipped on the TV/vid com and watched mindless sit-coms all night.

At 2400 hours, Delenn handed the triluminary to the acolytes awaiting her orders, with a hand she barely prevented from visibly trembling. She was through with accepting this treatment of Branmer. How could they disobey his last wishes like this? It was a defilement. One could explain it no other way, and it must not continue. _All he had ever wanted was a peaceful end, to float among the stars, not to be trapped in a glass box and displayed like some horrid piece of meat! How could Neroon think of this as honoring him? Only a warrior could imagine such a thing! It was far too convenient for the Star Riders to completely forget that Branmer had been religious. He had a spiritual soul, could they not see that? _She saw his quirky half-smile briefly. _He never wanted any of this, he only became a warrior because it was required of the times. _For the past few days, she had seen him in every Minbari male, ambling around a corner, as though she could recognize the back of his head-bone anywhere. But when the given man turned slightly, it was not Branmer, and the illusion was gone. Almost as though he were telling her in his own subtle way what he wanted, and it was not this. _No, this is finished, _her heart pounded. _If anyone finds out…but this must be done, no matter what the others say. He wanted to be spread among the stars, and he shall have it. It does not behoove anyone else to deny him his last wishes. If the Star Riders do find out, and wish to challenge this, then they can answer to all of us as to why they would deny their own general his wish…_She instructed the acolytes in the use of the triluminary to immobilize the guards, and let them go. She sank down on a chair and waited for their return.

Havah really didn't even want to get up the next day, but she dragged herself to work, and stood in the back for the ceremony. She was glad, for once, that she was short. She was only attending because Delenn had presented it as a gesture of respect, but there were people there she had no desire to see. Everyone really. Against any rationality, she had hoped for a different response from Neroon. But his reaction had not been unexpected. They were the most insular people she had ever met, and if he had known that she fought in the War, his reaction probably would not have been as restrained. But still, somewhere in her mind, she had sustained that childhood wish that she would meet her real father and magically, he would recognize her and express his desire to be part of her life. _Garbage_. The procession went by, and she heard Neroon's resonant voice. She couldn't see what happened next, but a few moments went by, and then chaos. The body of the Shai Alyt was missing.

_Oh Jesus._ The command staff went by with the Minbari procession in disarray, heading for Sinclair's office. Milling people were herded away from the area by security, and a perimeter was set up to prevent further intrusion. The body of the Minbari general was missing, in spite of heavy guard by Minbari security and a sealed room, accessible only through the guarded entrance. A million thoughts were flashing through people's minds, audible in shocked exclamations. Was it theft? An act of spite? Who, why, and not least, how? She left, knowing that there would be an investigation and that with all of the commotion, there was no further reason for her to be there.

A tense conversation took place within the Commander's office. Both Ambassador Delenn and Alyt Neroon were breathing down his neck in outrage at what had happened, and demanding answers. Sinclair had none to give them. Neroon insinuated that his clan would take matters into their hands if the situation was not resolved. No way was Sinclair going to stand for that on his station, but before the situation could get out of control, Ambassador Delenn stepped in and reprimanded the Alyt. Sinclair hadn't even known that she had the power to do such a thing, where a military officer was concerned. She strode towards the door and a flummoxed Neroon faltered, and then stalked after her. Clearly something had happened, some interchange neither Garibaldi nor Sinclair understood, but all that mattered was that they had to find that body, and do it before Delenn's tenuous influence over the angry warrior waned.

_That little gokh! _He could scarcely believe that she had spoken so to him, humiliated him, and in front of the Humans! _Unforgivable! This is becoming so characteristic of the Religious Caste, mindless of anyone but their own point of view, contemptuous of the very soldiers who protect their world and their temples! _He followed her like a giant silent shadow to her quarters, refusing to engage in a dispute in front of any off-worlders. As soon as the doors shut, he exploded into indignation.

"DO you have so little respect for Shai Alyt Branmer, or for your own Warrior Caste that you would allow these Humans to conduct an investigation of the very crime that it is likely that they themselves perpetrated? And to speak of our policy in such a manner, in front of them!—"

"Which I would not have had to do, if you had been acting reasonably! I am as shocked about this disappearance as you. You were not the only one close to him! He was a priest before he was Shai Alyt and he was my friend as well! How dare you speak to me as though I am disrespecting him, and as though the warriors are the only ones who cared for him!"

Neroon paused. He had been ready to blast right through her pompous little explanations, and her ignorant perception of 'reasonable', but her eyes and body language were tortured. She looked as though she were ready to collapse. He had been so angry with her, but perhaps he could afford to relent, this once. She had also been Branmer's friend after all, that was true. Although, like her bond with Dukhat, he could certainly never understand why. In any case, he was still cross. _Why should I allow this event to be so badly blundered, by her impudence! I don't care if she is Grey Council! She should have known better. Is this what the Grey Council has become? Still, I do not wish to be the one to make the 'Satai' collapse. That would serve no purpose._ "Very well,I will allow this 'investigation' without further protest, but it will be done to my satisfaction. That much, I demand for the sake of the Shai Alyt, and if you do 'care for him', as you say you do, you will not oppose me in this." He turned on his heel and left before she could answer. There was no further answer required. He would start with gathering more information, particularly about the peculiar little woman who had been staring at his soldiers before the body disappeared. She hadn't seemed inclined to commit such a crime, but Humans were not above lying, and people can act in any way they wish to appear. She hadn't seemed particularly capable of such a feat. Either one of his guards could have broken her across their knees with barely a shift in motion, but her timing was unlikely to have been a coincidence. So perhaps she had been involved in some way. He tracked down Mr. Garibaldi at his office. Garibaldi barely masked his displeasure at the appearance of Neroon, but did not appear surprised.

"Mr. Garibaldi, I wish to know what you are doing to conduct this investigation. Since my men are not to be involved," he sneered angrily, " You have been assigned to it, and since it concerns us, we have every right to know the manner in which this will be carried out."

Garibaldi sighed. "Well, Alyt, we're starting with a general search of the room he was in to see if there were any traces left behind—"

"What about living quarters? What about the suspicious woman loitering around the guards yesterday? You will investigate her presence there, of course?"

"Alyt, I really don't think—"

"Mr. Garibaldi, I do not care what you think! If you are going to conduct this investigation properly, you will make certain that she is questioned and her quarters searched, since she is obviously suspect—"

"Alyt, I have been doing investigation and security for nine years, I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do an investigation on my own damn station. Now I understand that you are angry, and I understand that you want this resolved, but I am asking you to trust me. The only way I can get this done is to be left alone to work it out, ok? I'll question her, and I'll search her quarters for all of the good I think it will do, I really doubt that she's involved. But you have to back off and let me do my job the way we know how to do it. I promise you I'll keep you updated on anything that we find. Anything that we find, you'll be the first to know, alright?"

"I will await your 'updates' Mr. Garibaldi." He stormed away and Garibaldi slammed his hand against the desk, envisioning Neroon's face. _Dammit, this guy's really getting on my nerves!_

After the door slid shut, Delenn collapsed onto the couch, sobbing. _This is intolerable._ It was bad enough that they had lost Branmer, but Neroon's tirades were becoming more and more uncontrollable. He was the most intractable person she had ever seen, and what now? If he kept going like this, he would find out what had happened, and so would Sinclair and the others. There was no question in her mind as to the rightness of what she had done, but it was not likely that the Humans would understand, and the delicate trust she had been building with Jeffrey Sinclair, would very likely be damaged. Everything she had been working towards would come crashing down, all because Neroon had to have things the way the Star Riders wanted them, as if they were the only ones in the galaxy! And then, there were the warriors. Their obedience to her orders, as one of the Grey Council, had been marginal at best, but now…that relationship was dissolving as each minute went by. She must regain control of the situation. She must have a united response. She went over to the uplink and connected with Minbar, summoning one of the other religious Council members, to explain the situation. The Grey Council must act as one in this matter if she was to intervene, and she required orders…and a friendly voice.

Havah returned to work, wondering what the investigation would reveal, wondering what could have happened. _I saw those guards. What the hell could have gotten past them? Unless someone had already been in the room when the Shai Alyt was placed there, but then, how the hell could the person have gotten out past them, with a body in tow?_ Garibaldi showed up a couple hours later. Havah wasn't terribly surprised.

"I'm guessing you know why I'm here."

"Because the body is missing and you think I have something to do with it."

"I don't. But the fun-filled Minbari Tower of Joy does. I'm leading the investigation, and he demanded that you be questioned and your quarters be searched. He wanted to do it himself, but I said 'no way'. So here I am. We can talk here or somewhere else, but I'm letting you know that your quarters will be gone through." He smiled mirthlessly.

Havah banged her forehead on the desk. "Thanks. What do you want to ask me?"

Garibaldi grilled her about every detail of where she had been all day, before and after the incident the previous day, and then again today. After he left, she sighed and threw a pad against the wall. _I hope they find the body and LEAVE!_

Jensen came up to the security chief, carrying a few rolled up sheets of paper and a bound cloth book. "You might want to have a look at this, Chief. I found it in Havah Lassee's quarters."

_Damn! I don't need this right now_, he thought. He really didn't want to have to arrest her. He took the book and papers. The papers were pencil drawings, old ones. Of Neroon. That much was obvious, and the name was right on the bottom of one of them. Some of them were nudes. _What the hell! I really hope that she doesn't have a crush on this guy! But it would explain her reaction as far as the War. It gave a lot of people some pretty weird reactions to Minbari. But that doesn't seem right either, these sketches look too old._ _And the name isn't in Havah's handwriting._ No one needed to be an expert to recognize her scrawl. Havah's writing took up entire lines for a few words. But this handwriting was precise and compact. He opened the book. The picture inside the cover caught his eyes. _A real looker, and she looks a little like Havah._ He took the book to his office and started poring. It was obviously a journal, also not in Havah's handwriting. He read the whole thing, not believing what he was reading, and then read it again. Havah's name wasn't mentioned anywhere, but…She was the child. She had to be. This woman looked like Havah. He knew that Havah was a half-breed, maybe the only known half-breed, the only normal one anyway, although normal was relative after yesterday. That meant that Neroon was her father. _Why else would she have this?_ He went back through her quarters, and found the note from her mother. _I'll be damned! She's half Minbari!_ He looked again at the pictures of Neroon_. I guess I can see it a little. Same eyes and jaw, ridge above the nose. How'd she get away with not having a bone? Well, that explains her reaction. She said she couldn't explain why she was there. She knows. She knows and wanted to see him. So what now, I'm not a family therapist. Boy, this woman's just full of surprises. I really don't need any more surprises today._

The rest of her quarters had been searched, with nothing found. Not that he had really expected to, but part of him had been hoping for some idea, some lead. _Man, it's too much to ask that things be simple, just once. _He glanced around. She had a spare sense of decoration, barely anything up on the walls but a big woven wire spider-web, a dream-catcher hung on the wall over her bed, and papers and socks scattered everywhere. She read a lot, because piles of books were lying on every possible surface. There were Mardi Gras beads draped across the mirror, and gauzy scarves and business dresses strewn over the back of a chair.

He went to her office and found her sitting on the floor with piles of pads around her. He leaned on the lintel and then stepped carefully between the piles to hand her the book and sketches. She looked at him warily as her fingers closed around them. She said nothing, watching him with round eyes.

"Look, it's none of my business, whatever is between you and him. I don't get involved in family stuff."

She smiled weakly and shook her head. He headed out and then she spoke. "Garibaldi, you don't think differently about me now that you know, do you?"

He turned and looked at her. She looked anxious. He shook his head. "No. You're no more or less of a pain in the ass than you were before." He smiled and turned to leave, and then turned back around, unable to resist. "You do look a little like him, without the bone."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"Hey, come on," he continued, "He needs a personality overhaul but he's not a bad-looking guy."

She crossed her arms, still glaring at him, and shot back, "Then why don't you two go on a date!"

"Ooh, see now, you really look like him when you're mad!" He ducked as a pen went whizzing by his head. "You know, you could've put my eye out with that thing!"

"How do you know I wasn't trying!"

He grinned at her. "Feel better?"

She nodded and smiled, genuinely this time. "Yeah, I guess, thanks. It's just been a really long week. I need a vacation."

"You and me both, sister!" He left to continue his investigation.

_So he knows, someone knows now_, she thought. _I don't think he'll tell anyone, but what do I do now? I can't just watch those warriors, especially not with my lack of finesse. I guess I'll just keep my eyes open, and keep asking questions. Boy, the Alyt's got to be going nuts with the body missing. He thinks I had something to do with it, but I don't see how anyone could have done it. No one could have gotten past those guards, certainly not a Human…So maybe we're not asking the right questions. Not where, but how, and why?_ _Why? Anger, spite, disrespect of the Minbari? That's what we've been assuming…_She went to find Garibaldi. After a few hours, she located him, haggard and cantankerous.

"I had a thought."

"Shoot."

"We've all assumed that the body-snatching was motivated by anger towards the Minbari. What if that's not the motive at all?"

He thought for a moment. "I thought of that. Someone who liked him? We still can't figure out how the person or people could have gotten inside past the guards, and back out with the body. I hate to think of it like this, but it reeks of an inside job. But how the hell would I tell the Commander that, and how the hell do we tell Delenn or Neroon that?"

"Maybe it _is_ an inside job. If no one could have gotten in or out past the guards, and there is no other access, then maybe it was one of them, or a few of them? What if they don't agree with the way Neroon does things. I wouldn't want to stand up to him directly, why would they?"

"No, none of his men would have done it. You've been out of the military too long. Also, my understanding is that it was the military that wanted the ceremony."

"Was there someone who didn't? Who else could have gotten past them? And what other reasons are there why someone would have stolen the body?"

"The Religious Caste, I don't think they were happy about some aspects of the ceremony. Jeff mentioned that Delenn was out of sorts, and she doesn't seem to get on too well with Neroon."

"Wow. Yeah. I guess I was thinking of bickering families. You know how crazy people get at funerals. Normally sane people can turn into maniacs if the body isn't dealt with the way they want it. I know personally…" She added ruefully. "Aunt Maude throws a fit because Uncle Joe from the wrong side of the family is keeping the ashes of Cousin Bob. And so Uncle Joe secretly gives Aunt Maude chicken ashes just to shut her up…"

Garibaldi eyed her curiously. "I don't think I need to know any more details of that story. I'm just saying it for the record: You're weird." He laughed and continued. "Yeah, I think we need to start looking at Aunt Maude or Uncle Joe. I was just hoping to avoid that, if at all possible. If that is true, it's going to get ugly. I'm thinking that if it's an inside job, that it won't be the warriors, maybe someone in Delenn's crowd. Like I said, she's not too friendly with Neroon. The tension between them was like trying to walk through a nest of electric eels. And I'm still wondering how the hell I'm going to bring that possibility up without sending the Minbari through the roof. Politics isn't my bag, in case you hadn't noticed."

Havah laughed. "Ain't mine either. Do you think Delenn would condone or even do something like that? What would they do?"

"Well, she apparently knew Branmer too. If I knew what they might do with the body, I might have a better idea where to look for it. I still don't know how they would get past the guards though. But they might be able to at least enter the room in preparation for the ceremony. Of course, all of this is moot right now, since I have no evidence. I can't just spout ideas like that about our 'guests' unless I have something to back it up."

"I don't envy you." She grinned and left.

Neroon slipped down the corridor, stealthy and determined. _I have had enough of this, we have all had enough of this. Pumping the stomachs of the Pakmara! Revolting!_ His own stomach churned in response. He refused to pause, quelling the rebellion of his body. He had not eaten or slept in nearly two weeks, fasting and presiding over the preparations for Branmer. He had finally slept last night allowing himself a couple hours, but it had been far from restful. All he remembered of his fitful dreams, had been that blasted woman's face, the little one who had been ogling his guards. Except her eyes had been different, golden instead of dark. Blazing gold, with dark green ribboned through them, and black rings around the irises. He knew those eyes. Those eyes had followed him in his sleep for years. He had no idea why, or who they belonged to, but he had looked for those eyes in the face of every Minbari woman he had ever met, and never found them. He shook off the thought and the memory of the eyes with irritation. _Never has Garibaldi mentioned the searching of the quarters of the other person who stands to benefit from dishonoring the Shai Alyt, Sinclair! And since he has neglected to attend to it, then I will do so myself. My patience with this Human investigation is at an end._

He easily over-rode the controls on the door panel and entered Sinclair's quarters. He began methodically going through the papers on the table, and began looking for crystals, shaking off the fog of exhaustion that kept wanting to seize his mind, dulling everything. There was nothing of use on the few crystals he found, and so he turned to the drawers, rummaging through garments, again finding nothing. Some garments were truly alien to him, and he dropped them with distaste. He pulled apart the bed, tossing the pillows on the floor. He was obviously not looking in the right place. There must be something.

The door rasped open and he backed into a shadow, cast by the closet door. The silhouette of the commander entered and surveyed the apartment with dawning realization. He launched himself at Sinclair catching him around the throat in a wrestler's grip. Sinclair swung around using Neroon's momentum and threw Neroon, who stumbled and nearly fell. Neroon drove his fist into the man's jaw with a blow that was weaker than it should have been, but still should have dropped him to the ground. But Sinclair only stumbled back. Neroon threw another haymaker punch, his hunger and fatigue were showing, and the man ducked it, coming back with his own straight punch to the jaw. Neroon barely flinched and raised his leg to smash Sinclair in the ribs with a crescent kick, but his body was not obeying him, and it smacked ineffectually against Sinclair's hip. At that moment, Sinclair connected with a reverse punch to the jaw again. It knocked him off balance and he fell backwards to the floor. How had he not seen that coming? Neroon thought bitterly, _This is disgraceful!_

Sinclair stared at the Minbari warrior with astonishment. He knew that the man was hot-tempered, and he knew there had been enmity between them, but breaking and entering? This seemed beyond someone of such rank. What the devil was going on? Maybe it was the grief? Neroon certainly looked haggard, Sinclair noted, as the older man climbed to his feet, wiping his head.

Neroon stared at the Human acidly, more winded than he would have admitted, and demanded the truth, that his quarters hadn't even been searched due to the crew's respect of him. Garibaldi walked in behind the commander, and explained, no doubt to Neroon's displeasure, that in fact, not only had Sinclair's quarters already been searched, but with Delenn's eye.

_Delenn? How…_Neroon was so surprised to hear of her involvement in this that he said nothing, fighting the encroaching mental fog.

Sinclair looked pointedly at the Alyt and asked security to escort the stunned soldier to his quarters. Neroon shot both of them a look that could have frozen duranium and brushed past them. _If any of these Humans place their hands on me, they will be living the rest of their lives as paraplegics._ Security hurried after him down the corridor.

A young renegade telepath named Alyssa Beldon was the one, finally, to rescue the investigation. Quite by accident, in fact. The teenager, not yet in full control of her gift, pulled the deed from Delenn's mind as they sat and talked of Miss Beldon's possible future with the Minbari people, instead of indenture to Psi Corps.

Sinclair and Garibaldi confronted Delenn in a cargo bay, receiving what suspiciously looked like a cremation urn. After some negotiation, she was allowed to keep it, in addition to procuring their silence on the matter. She would be the one to inform Neroon of the conclusion of the investigation. They reluctantly agreed, relieved only that the issue was solved and that Neroon would be out of their hair.

Following her encounter with Sinclair and Garibaldi, Delenn took the urn to her quarters and sat, relaxing with some tea to regain her galloping heartbeat, before summoning Neroon. She had received her orders and they would not be denied. The Humans may not understand, but Neroon would be made to. Minutes later he appeared, a black presence in her door. He entered, looking as if he were biting on nails. "You called for me. Have you learned anything?"

She drew a deep breath. "Yes. I have his ashes. His body was cremated as he requested originally. They will be taken to Minbar and released near the sun.—"

Neroon could not believe his ears. It must be another trick of his long fatigue. He stared incredulously at her. "You—You have his ashes? You stole his body from my guards and had his body reduced to ashes, despite our specifications? And all the while I have been following the Humans, believing them to be the thieves!"

She ignored the insult, she could not let that distract her now. "It was as he wished—"

Neroon exploded into motion, pacing to quell the overwhelming urge to close his hands around her thin neck. _She is responsible for all of this? _But the following argument did not go at all the way justice dictated it should go. She maintained that since Branmer had been Religious Caste on his mother's side, that the Warrior Caste was over-ruled in their decision to honor the Star Rider ceremony. She even threatened to dissolve the Star Riders if they opposed her. And she did this with the backing of the Grey Council. She ordered him to support her lie, and say that Branmer's body had been magically transformed into light, rather than robbed under their very noses and reduced to ash! And then, outrage of all outrages, she wanted him to apologize to that puerile Human commander, the reckless child who had tried to defy them on the Line!

_And she is using her rank to get away with this indecency! How dare she accuse me of disrespecting Branmer when she has resorted to body-snatching and demanded that we weave a fairy-tale to feed our people, so that her crime will not be discovered?_ _Why in Valen's name is the Grey Council supporting this? _But, he could not disobey the Council. _Someday, this will all come out. And I will be there._ _But perhaps now is not the right time. I will not jeopardize the honor of my men, when she has threatened to destroy them. Not because of me. _

He faced her, dropped his eyes as was customary for one addressing a Grey Council member, whether she deserved to be one or not, and closed his fist in the salute of the Warrior Caste, wanting more than anything to bury his fist in her insufferable mouth. There was nothing more to say or do here. Who knew what twisted version of the truth she had told the Council! He would wait and try to straighten this all out when he returned to Minbar, and seek an audience with them himself, without her there to distort what really happened. In the meantime, he would have to…apologize to the commander. How? Well…it hadn't actually been the Humans' fault this time. The crime had been Delenn's, and, once again, the betrayal at the hands of a member of the Religious Caste. No, it would not be proper to continue to hold the commander responsible for the deeds of the Religious Caste. It was his station, after all. He was a commander as well, and understood the need to protect those under his command. Neroon went to his quarters and drafted his words to the commander. It was his last task before wrapping up their affairs and returning to Minbar, and he wished to leave this place. He accosted the commander in his office. "Commander, I wish to speak with you."

Sinclair looked up, already tired of the interchange he was expecting. "Yes, Alyt, is there something I can do for you?"

Neroon drew in his breath. "I wish to apologize."

Sinclair thought he was going to fall over, but he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to make some kind of connection with this enigmatic captain. He approached Neroon. Maybe he had misjudged this man. He had been grieving after all, and looking at the older soldier. The lines of fatigue were chiseled in his face.

Neroon left the commander's office in not nearly as foul a mood as he had entered it. Perhaps he had misjudged Sinclair. He had expected gloating, he had expected anger, he had expected anything other than the genuine praise of Branmer that Sinclair had expressed, and was willing to express to all of Branmer's people. Perhaps Sinclair had been young and reckless during the war, but it was possible that he had…grown wiser since then. At least he appeared to be honorable. Neroon had actually felt…generous towards him for a moment, and attempted a Human custom in reconciliation. A handshake. He had done some half-hearted observation of Humans while aboard the station, when he hadn't been chasing that abrasive security chief around! _What an odd custom. Why do Humans need to touch persons they've never met in order to greet them, or depart, or seal an agreement? Insecurity perhaps._ Neroon had much to do to see to the departure of his ship. That night, he dreamed of golden eyes again.

"Alright, Nancy Drew, you're not going to believe this!" Garibaldi sauntered into her room, shutting the door behind him. "We were both right. It was an inside job, but it wasn't the warriors. I knew they wouldn't do it. It was Delenn. She didn't like the way Neroon was handling the proceedings. So she snuck the body out and had him cremated."

Havah almost fell over on the bed. "Delenn! You're joking! Wow…I know people get crazy, but she seemed too careful for that. What did she think, that Neroon would just get tired and go home? She just seems like she would think things out better than that."

Garibaldi tossed his head and clucked, "Well, it's like you said, people get crazy, that's the definition of crazy. She's got a wild streak in her, I can tell. She's just better at hiding it than most people."

"So what did Neroon say?"

"We didn't get to tell him. Her condition was that she was going to tell him…'her way', whatever that means. She wanted to be the one to deal with him, which is just fine with me. But there is no love lost between those two. And now there's going to be even less. Turns out that there is this big rift going on between the Religious Caste and the Warrior Caste, because of the War, because the military was ordered to surrender by the Religious Caste. They're still sore about it, and they're not just angry at us, they're angry at Delenn's bunch."

"Great, so this whole time she was playing dumb and offended, she could've gotten us embroiled in another war."

"Nah, I don't think it would have come to that. Neroon's pissy, but I don't think that he'll start a war. He's too much of an old conservative. Very traditional, does everything by the book, and so I don't think that he would disobey orders, and I don't think that the Minbari government would let him start taking out other Minbari, or even other Humans. That's part of the problem, I think, as far as the whole tension is concerned. They're kept on a tight leash."

"Well, but if you keep someone on too tight a leash, can't it break eventually, like Chinese water torture. If you drip water on somebody's face for long enough, won't they eventually snap?"

"Yep, probably. And if you ask me, that'll probably happen, eventually."

"So, how did they do it? How did they get the body past those guards?"

"I haven't gotten an answer to that yet, but I will, if it's the last thing I do." He turned to go and then hesitated. "Oh…I just thought you should know because you may hear it at some point, Neroon went into Jeff's quarters. He thought that we were holding out on him, and that we were trying to protect Jeff, so he wanted to search Jeff's quarters himself. We escorted him to his quarters and he was no joy, let me tell you, but now that he's finding out the truth, I don't think he'll pull anything else like that, not aside from his usual 'carrying on cranky', as Ivanova would put it. I'm telling you because you should definitely avoid him at this point, until they've left. If he was in a bad mood before, he was Santa Claus compared to now. And I figured that you had a right to know."

Havah scowled and started kicking the leg of the desk disconsolately. "Are they ok? Jeff and him? Is everything ok now?"

"Yeah, everything's ok now, but this whole incident hasn't done anything to improve his disposition, or his idea of Humans. I know she's an ambassador and all, but I for one, am pretty annoyed at Delenn. And even though he's been a pain in the ass and I don't agree with his tactics, I don't blame Neroon for being angry, he _was_ given the run-around, just not by us."

She sighed. "Thanks for telling me."

Garibaldi left and she sat at the edge of the bed, wanting to laugh in amazement, even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.

She found Sinclair in his quarters. He opened the door, and she entered a natural disaster. He was picking books up off of the floor. "You'll have to forgive the mess." He sighed, tossing papers on the bed and in the trash, and straightened a picture of a pretty Asian woman. _Was that a few drops of blood on the floor, in the corner there? That shine in the light? If so, whose? Blood, saliva…genetic material. _"What happened?'

"I'd just as soon not discuss it."

Normally this would have been good enough for her, but not today, not with what she knew. She took a deep breath. "Look, I know about Alyt Neroon. So what happened?"

His eyes flashed and she took a step back. "Remind me to tell Michael that he's got a big mouth! That was supposed to be confidential!—"

"It's not his fault, sir…it's mine!" She blurted.

"How is it your fault? Michael has been in security for a decade. Believe me, you couldn't get anything out of him unless he wanted to let it go—"

"You don't understand. He told me for a specific reason, it's not his fault, he knew I…I found out recently that Neroon is…or is very likely to be…my father."

Sinclair had continued to shuffle things around, but now he stopped as suddenly as a mannequin. His head and molasses-colored eyes raised to lock on hers, searching for veracity. She sank onto the floor and picked up a pillow and held it to her chest like a shield, waiting for him to say something.

He didn't, so she continued. "My father and mother were both kidnapped by another alien race, I don't know who, but they were experimented on, both physiologically and behaviorally…they were mated, not of their own accord, and then they escaped, but not before their memories were tampered with. I was that experiment. My mother had a teep pull the memories out of her mind and she wrote them down. I have her diary, and the sketches she drew of my father. I know it sounds crazy. It sounded crazy to me too, but it's him. She remembered his name too. What I don't have is genetic evidence. I can't ask him because he wouldn't remember either. You saw him, you saw what he's like." She sat clutching the pillow.

He blew his breath out slowly through his nose and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's quite a conundrum. I believe you, or at least I believe that you have strong reasons for considering that a possibility. Who knows what happened out there, but I don't know how to help you, Miss Lassee. You should investigate this if you think that is what happened, and also if you think there is a race out there that is victimizing other species like that. But I don't have any ideas. You're right that I don't think it would be a good idea to ask him, and I also don't think it would be a good idea to approach Delenn about this. She is usually a reasonable person, but lately…" He shook his head irritably, "And I have to profess ignorance about how the Minbari handle things like that. In a lot of ways they are a lot like us, and they are often honorable, but they are still very alien in other ways which pop up very clearly from time to time, in the way they think. I think you're wise to proceed with caution."

She fidgeted. "Sir, I don't…I came here partly because I wanted to see if everything was ok, but now that I'm here, I was wondering…I was wondering if maybe he might have left some kind of genetic material around or skin flakes or something…" She turned red. _Now he's going to think I'm nothing but a scheming little weasel._

He just looked very, very tired. "Miss Lassee, he wore gloves the whole time he was here, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you want to look around for a moment, if you think it will help. And I'm fine, everything has been resolved, but thank you for asking."

"Thank you so much sir! I didn't mean to get in your way or anything, I can help you clean up faster too. And I'm really sorry for what happened."

"You don't have to do that. And you aren't responsible for this. And I guess I can understand the logic. Well, I'm going to keep cleaning up, but if I see anything I'll let you know. Have at." He gestured around and returned to what he had been doing.

She walked over to the spots on the floor, kneeled and peered. She went to the bathroom and swiped a tissue, and wiped up the drops. It wasn't blood, but some sort of clear fluid, could be saliva, or sweat, she didn't know if Minbari sweated, or even if it was from Neroon. She folded it and put it carefully in her pocket, and continued to look around. There was the picture of the Asian woman. _Must be his girlfriend_, she noted with a brief pang of envy. He noticed her looking at it.

"She's pretty." Havah said lamely.

He beamed suddenly. "Her name is Catherine."

Havah smiled and nodded, not wanting to pry any more. She took a couple more passes of the room, and straightened things up as she went, thanked him and left awkwardly, positive that he must be thinking that her and her entire family bloodline must be full of rude, chemically-imbalanced lunatics. And who could she take this to, now that she had something, or thought she did. She really didn't want to go through Med Lab. It was a military facility, but although Garibaldi, and now Sinclair both knew…at least knew her story, there was nothing on record. Anything that showed up on a genetic test would go on a record somewhere and could conceivably be accessed. This would be inevitable no matter where she went for a scientific answer, but certainly it would be worse for the military to have access to that sort of information, considering the past. Maybe she could contract out somewhere, there were a dozen labs that processed results of various tests from the various personal physicians of the human and alien races that passed through Babylon 5. While people were here, they may go to Med Lab to be seen, but they had records from private physicians and private labs, all of which she had access to in the course of disease investigations. She headed to her office to select a candidate. There was one she knew of on the station. A private lab would be pricy, but it would be worth knowing, and worth the privacy.

She found the lab, and inquired about the price of paternity tests, and almost choked when the pale blond man told her. She had never had to deal with price before, since she only had to deal with test results in her job. _No wonder health care costs so much, especially without a single-payer like the government. They just pass the cost of the labs down to the patients!_ _It'll be worth it,_ she kept telling herself as she prepared to transfer an amount of credits that felt like half her rent.

"So what do I do now?" She showed him the tissue.

He looked at it curiously. "Well, just give that to me and I'll get the specimen onto the proper medium and we'll run the PCR. It used to be that this kind of test required either buccal cells or blood, and then it was even more expensive. But now, pretty much any biological fluid or cell type will do. Whatcha got here?"

"I'm not sure, really. I don't even know if it's from the person I want tested, but it's all I could get."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Ok, well, it's your money. I need cells from you too, rub this on the inside of your cheek, and drop it in here." He gave her a swab, and held out a little vial. "Results are completely confidential, and we'll run it and let you know, probably in a few days. There is a backlog right now."

"Cool, thanks."

She left, clammy with perspiration. _A pound of credits, and literally a pound of flesh…in sweat!_ Now all there was to do was wait.

She hated waiting, more than anything else in the galaxy. But, lab results couldn't be rushed. She still called half a million times until she was sure the blonde man would reach through the screen to strangle her upon seeing her face. Despite a few hundred years since the first elementary laboratory operated, and despite the amazing leaps of technology since then, the turnaround time for results still moved at a glacial pace, and a few weeks later, she was finally told that she could come down and get the results. The blonde man popped the crystal into a port to explain the results.

"It was biological fluid from a Minbari male. And these here indicate the alleles that we identified, they're called markers. This indicates that between his markers and your markers, there was a 99% inclusion. That means, in essence, that this person is likely to be related to you with 99% certainty, there is only a .01 percent chance of his exclusion. Do you understand?"

She did. Well. Her knees got watery. There it was. Scientific evidence. The fluid had been organic, and it had belonged to a Minbari male. There was also a genetic match between her DNA, and the Minbari specimen, enough to be considered 99% confirmatory for paternity. The Minbari male who had been in Sinclair's quarters was her father. And the only person that could have been, was Alyt Neroon. She pulled out the crystal and left, ashen-faced. The tech asked her on the way out if she was ok, she nodded mutely.

Sinclair was busy most of the day, but she finally tracked him down on the observation deck for the few minutes of the day he took alone, disturbing him…again. She approached quietly.

"Sir? Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, and you don't have to call me sir, Miss Lassee. You're not in the military anymore." He smiled warmly at her.

"Yes s-, Commander. I just wanted to ask you, I know this is a strange question, but you know the conversation we had a few weeks ago? Well, were there any other Minbari males in your quarters that day or in the past few weeks, or ever…really? Besides Alyt Neroon?"

"No. Mr. Lennier is the only other Minbari male I've been around for any length, and he's never been in my quarters. Did you do your investigation?"

She nodded and stared at her feet, glancing around briefly.

"We're alone, Miss Lassee, it's alright." His voice was kind.

Her voice quivered. "It was him. The test indicated that the material that I found on the floor of your quarters came from a Minbari male, and that that person was related to me by paternity." She was shivering uncontrollably, and the commander moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Lassee, are you alright? I won't say anything, this is your business and no one else's."

She put a shaking hand to her forehead. "Yeah, I know. I'm just really…really discombobulated. This whole thing, finding the diary just threw me for a loop, you know. I've been thinking about it non-stop since then, about the War, about everything in my life, and never had any resolution, and it was never real, really, until now."

He laughed gently, his hand on her back. "I understand. That's a lot to think about."

She put her hand down. "I'm ok, really. Thanks for everything. I think I need to go somewhere and relax for a while, maybe go get some dinner. When in doubt, eat. That's the way it was growing up. I guess it's a Jewish thing. It's a wonder I wasn't 800 pounds growing up."

"Yes, well, I can think of worse ways of dealing with stress." He patted her back. "Let me know if there is anything else I can do."

"I will, thanks."

She started to leave, but he said thoughtfully, "Miss Lassee, you mentioned that your parents were kidnapped and experimented on. By whom, do you know?"

"No."


	7. Chapter 7

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 7: Assassination

Havah fastened the last clasp on her red satin Chinese dress. _Goin on a da-ate!_ It had been ages, it seemed. She'd had other concerns, lack of interest, until Dylan approached her, the night after the Ingata had left. She'd been sitting in the Zocalo when he'd sidled up to her, his security uniform accenting the broadness of his shoulders. _Always been a sucker for a man in uniform_. _And he is totally hot! Tall, big sienna eyes, defined jaw, high cheekbones._ The only problem was that, while he had been quiet around her, she had noticed him adopt a bit of a swagger later that day, around other guys. She hated that! _Well, I don't have to marry him, it's just a date! Besides, maybe he's just insecure. It'll wear off._ She put on her slippers and shook out her long hair and took a quick look in the mirror. A sultry courtier looked back at her. She threw on her wrap and hurried to the Fresh Air restaurant, where he was already waiting at a table, in a stunning olive suit. He stood up to pull out her chair, flashing a brilliant smile. "Wow, you look gorgeous! May I?" _ isn't dead_, she thought. He took her wrap and hung it delicately over the back of her seat, and pushed in her chair, glancing at the sheer black-hosed leg that peeked out from the slit in her dress. He took a seat across from her and handed her a menu. "I've had the jok'aa tenderloin, and the flarn, and they're both amazing."

"Yeah, I've been here once before, and had one of the pasta dishes, it was very good. Homemade."

The waiter came and since they both knew what they wanted, they both ordered the tenderloin. "I'm a creature of habit. I find something I like and stick with it," he explained. Then his face grew serious. "And while I don't know you well, I think you could become a serious habit." He finished, gazing at her intently.

_Oh, you did not just feed me that line?_ She stifled a cruel laugh. _Who the hell says stuff like that?_ Her incredulousness must have been visible because he turned red and backpedaled. "I'm sorry. I know how stupid that sounded. It's just…well, at the risk of sounding like I'm giving you another line, I get nervous around beautiful women. You are really beautiful and I am really nervous. Sorry. The truth is…I've been trying to work up the brass to ask you out for a while." He finished, his face flaming, wiping his palms surreptitiously on his napkin.

She squelched an uncomfortable giggle. He was trying to give her a compliment after all, at least she could be gracious. "It's alright, thank you. And I don't mean to make you nervous…"

"No, I mean, it's ok…I'm just going to change the subject since I'm just a bozo about stuff like that! So, how is public health? I know you work with Carmen Santana."

"It's ok, hectic." She paused. "Do you really want details? Epidemiologists are notorious for regaling people with gross stories during meals."

He laughed, "As long as you don't mind security talk." The tension dissipated, as their drinks arrived. "So, how did you get into public health, anyway? What made you decide to get out of the military? I heard about you, you could have been on a fast track."

"I was discharged…honorably. They never gave me the reason. Well that's ok, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in the military long-term anyway. It's not that it was that bad, it's just that the Commander-in-Chief is the President, and since we don't usually get the guy I vote for, I don't like the idea of being at that person's whim, although I was really happy with the president we had during the war. I haven't been so happy with all of our choices since then."

"Understood," he smiled, "But the Commander-in-Chief can't do anything without the consent of the Senate."

"Yeah, that's true."

"So what made you decide to join?"

"I knew we were being killed and that the enemy was real."

He tilted his head, "Fair enough."

"Also, the military requires that I go wherever I am posted. I moved all over the place with my parents when I was a kid, and I have no desire to continue that trend, at least not without some say-so. This way, I go where I want."

He laughed. "I understand, I was a military brat, so we moved a lot too. I guess that's how I wound up here, doing security." Their food came, and they dug in. The tenderloin was gamey, but delicious. "So…" she said between bites, "How do you like security here? I imagine it can be quite a ride at times."

"It's alright. I like working with Garibaldi, he's not a bad guy, although I wish he'd handled the Minbari differently. The last week has been a pain in the ass!"

"Yeah, no doubt!…"

"He shouldn't have given in to that arrogant Minbari commander. Made us look weak." He took a swig of beer.

Havah swallowed uncomfortably. "What would you have had him do? I mean, it seems like he didn't have much of a choice. It was a diplomatic thing too, you know. The Minbari were grieving. If Commander Sinclair hadn't made concessions, it would have appeared disrespectful of their grief."

"Well, first of all, they were supposedly grieving when they tried to destroy Earth too, and second, they haven't demonstrated in the time since then, any great respect for us. I think we cater to them too much as it is. It's all about who's paying the bills, I guess. They help fund the station, so they get to do whatever they want, and screw the people who they hurt during the War." The words came out with more vehemence than he intended. He saw the look of dismay. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you or anything. I understand what you're saying, I just have a lot of reservations about the Minbari still, and I figured that you might also, considering your history with them during the War. I mean, they seem polite enough around the station, but I didn't buy that surrender for a second. I guess some people are more forgiving than others. You're a nice girl, not a paranoid cop like me."

She laughed uneasily. "I don't know, I had reservations too, but I've been talking to Ambassador Delenn, and her interest in us seems genuine. So does her remorse for what happened. She expressed that to me once, and I really don't think she was faking it."

"Maybe not, although trust me, people can fake anything they want. But even if she was for real, it may be her own interest, her own remorse. Who's to say what the interest of her government is. Diplomats are supposed to represent their people, but a lot happens that diplomats aren't privy to."

"Well, I guess…but you know what? Until then, I'm not going to spend time worrying about it. If the Minbari I run into seem nice, I'm going to take it for what it is. And I don't think…no I'm fairly certain, that our own government isn't exempt from having hidden agendas or machinations that the rest of us aren't privy to either."

"Ooooooh, a conspiracy theorist are you?" he laughed.

She rolled her eyes.

They talked pleasantly for the remainder of the meal. After he got over his nervousness, his bloopers diminished and he was really quite charming. He was also an old science fiction buff, and loved Greek lyric poetry, old Charles Addams cartoons, and old South Park vids. _What a rare find!_ At the end of the meal, he walked her to her quarters. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and then left.

_How sweet!_ She went in and leaned against the door, with a warm fuzzy feeling. _Maybe he'll soften about the Minbari, given enough time._ She went to bed, feeling like she was still in high school.

He kicked off the covers, turned over and looked at Havah. The past several weeks had been marvelous. He leaned over and stroked the shining hair haloed across her pillow. She murmured and rolled over. _I think I'm in love_, he thought. He watched the back of her head, his eyes traveling over the curve of her hip. Her breathing had been steady and deep. Now it was shallow. She tossed to face him, breath ragged. He reached out to smooth the furrows in her forehead and to chase away whatever dream troubled her. But it didn't help. He tried to shake her awake, but she didn't awaken, only slipped deeper into the morass. Her teeth ground in pain or anger, he couldn't tell. And then she called out. It was a foreign language. _What language is that?_ It sounded almost familiar. He traced the curious contour at the bridge of her nose, wiping away a bead of sweat that trickled down near her eye. He didn't know what to do to wake her, just keep trying. She screamed and jolted awake.

"Havah, are you OK? You were having one hell of a nightmare!"

"Yeah," She sat up shakily, mopping her face with the comforter.

"I tried to wake you but you didn't wake up."

"I know, that's the way it always is."

"This has happened before?"

"Yeah, people have nightmares all the time! Look, it's no big deal. I'm used to it."

"I get nightmares sometimes too, about the War. Why don't you see a doctor?"

"Because it's no big deal." She said forcefully, looking at him. "Did you see a doctor when you had nightmares?"

"No, but I figured it was my problem and they couldn't help me."

"So why do you think they could help me?"

"Alright, alright, sorry. I was just worried."

She threw the covers off and went to the bathroom, splashing water on her face. She came out and leaned back against the wall. "Sorry for snapping, and sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologize for having a bad dream, honey. It was kind of interesting actually, you started speaking in tongues or something. Hey what foreign languages do you know? Man, one of the guys I bunked with during the War used to have doozies too."

She smacked the back of her head against the wall. _Terrific!_ _So now the dream world is leaking into my love life._

"Hey." He walked up to her, caressing her arms and tilting her face up to his. "Are you really ok?"

She met his eyes reluctantly, but steadily. "Yes, it was just a bad dream."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

He kissed her forehead. "Ok."

"I just want to go back to bed." She went over to a drawer and dug out a prescription bottle, the pills the counselor had prescribed. She popped one of the pills and tossed the bottle back in the drawer.

"Sleeping pills?"

"Yeah, I don't use'em much."

He laid down next to her and drew her into his arms. She laid against his chest and tried to sleep, listening to his heart. Morning didn't come for a long time, for either of them.

She had been using the pills for a week. But Dylan didn't like it. He was very vocal about that. He'd argued with her about going to the doctor all week.

"Why don't you deal with the problem instead of dosing it?"

"And who do you think gave me those pills? The person I went to, to deal with the problem! Jesus Christ, they're sleeping pills, not dust! And I've been using them for a week." She really wasn't into guys trying to dictate what course of action she should take in her own damn life! She fell asleep fitfully.

Again, he laid next to her, looking at her unconscious form. He was done arguing about this. He slipped out from under the covers and pulled open the drawer quietly. There was a mess inside. Havah wasn't the tidiest person. He sifted through papers, sketches, a book, a dozen or so receipts for various sundries. He dug under them all and found the bottle where it had slipped, and looked at the label. Zolpidem, at a dose that could put out an elephant. He set the bottle back in the drawer, and started closing it, and then one of the sketches caught his eye. A curve of headbone. He pulled the sketches out and unrolled them. Havah stirred slightly, then rolled over. He ceased all motion, then resumed when her breathing steadied. The sketches were of a Minbari male. An aggressive-looking one, with spikes reminiscent of those he had seen on the warriors. In fact, he looked like the commander who'd been aboard the station weeks ago. There were a couple of nudes, almost like an anatomy study. _What the hell!_ There was a name. _Neroon Calear_. _Neroon_. _That was the name of the captain, wasn't it? Alyt Neroon?_ He picked up the book slowly. It was cloth-bound, like a journal. A picture fell out, of a beautiful bedouin woman with golden eyes and veiled hair. She looked slightly like Havah. He started reading, compulsively, from start to finish. _Jesus_, he leafed through it again. _Impossible_. There was a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He glanced over at her prostrate form, and continued to finger through the papers in the drawer. There was no mention of her name directly, but the implications were very clear. The woman laying in the bed was the child in the diary. He fumbled more loudly through the drawer, risking discovery. Here, a data crystal touched the tip of his finger. He slid into the chair in front of the computer/vid screen, and slipped the crystal into the port. It took him a second to figure out what he was looking at, the results of a genetic test. Two genomes. One of them was Havah's, the other, a Minbari male's. She was hischild. Their whole codes were plotted. _Amazing_! How? She had no head crest, not even a vestigial one? How could Humans and Minbari even reproduce? Unless…she was engineered, as the journal had indicated. He reviewed the screen for a few more minutes, then pulled the crystal from the port, and sat, absorbing what he'd just seen. _That was why she got so defensive when we talked about the Minbari. She knew. She's known all along_. _No, she didn't know during the War. And what if she had? Would she have fought against the Minbari like she did_? Havah shifted again, snoring. He placed everything back in the drawer, and then sat, watching her until morning. When her face turned towards him, he could see the alienness in her facial structure now. How had he not noticed it before? She obviously didn't trust him enough to tell him. _She's been shutting me out ever since the dream, and now…That must've been the language she spoke_. _I knew it sounded familiar_. _Why does she know Minbari? How much does she know about them, about the War, about their surrender_? When she awoke, he was sitting in a chair, staring at the bed.

"Dylan? What are you doing? Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he said distantly, "Couldn't sleep." He didn't offer anything else. "Look, I have to go, I'm on duty soon. I'll give you a call later." He wasn't meeting her eyes.

Havah was done with relationship melodrama. Dylan had been acting strange for a week. _What is it with guys?_ _Why can't he just talk to me?_ She went to the docks to find him, and encountered a security team, poring through boxes, but he wasn't there. Garibaldi's second-in-command, Byers, looked up as she approached, fixing her with intense brown eyes. He stood square-shouldered in front of the wares and asked testily,

"You looking for Dylan?"

"Yeah, have you seen him?"

"He's not here. He's on Gray Four." He said nothing else, merely eyed her stonily.

On a normal day, Byers made her skin crawl. He was one of the few security people she hadn't really gotten on with. It was his eyes she didn't like most. They were dead eyes. It was as though he wore a mask when talking to people, like a vid recording being played on cue. He frightened her. But if Garibaldi and Dylan trusted him, she supposed that everyone else should too. It was quite a feat for anyone to pass Garibaldi's creep-o-meter. Rather than stay and inquire further into Dylan's whereabouts, she opted to leave and wonder later, if Dylan had shared his burden with everyone in security instead of talking to her.

He was sleeping in his own quarters now. During the past week, she went up to him a couple of times and asked if they could talk. She decided to try again.

"Hey, can we talk?"

His demeanor was chilly. "Uh, well, now isn't a good time."

"Why not? You're not on-duty. Look it's important. Please?"

"Alright. What's up?" He said, nonchalantly.

"I just wanted to know what's going on? You've been acting strange for a week. I just…I was wondering if it was something I did? You seem distant, and if you're mad at me, I need to know why."

He just stared at her, dumb or mute, she didn't know which.

She buried her face in her hands, and then looked up at him and yelled, "What! What is it, Dylan? Am I too much of a slob for you? Do you have a problem with my snoring? What did I do wrong? Why won't you talk to me? You just stare at me like I'm a complete stranger and then run away! Well, if you're going to make me into a stranger, I deserve to know why!"

He bristled. "I just haven't had time."

She threw her hands up in surrender. "Alright fine! You know what? I'm not going to pull teeth. When you decide that this is important enough, let me know, and I'll decide if it's still important to me." She turned to leave, resignedly.

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?"

She whirled to face him, indignant. "What? No! You can do whatever you want, but the point is that if we're not both equally invested in this relationship, then it'll be imbalanced. One person will always feel shorted and taken for granted, and the other person will resent the time they are putting in. That's not a healthy relationship, and there's no point, if both of us don't want this. Let me know." She stalked down the hallway, jammed the button on the lift and stood, arms crossed.

It was New Year's Eve tonight. Things were still strained between Dylan and her. Very strained. He'd come to her last week after she'd had that fight with him, and he'd seemed conciliatory, so she'd thought everything might work out. But a day later, things had gone back to the same unspoken tension, and she still didn't know why. _God! Why can't I ever have a good New Year's with a boyfriend? Or Valentine's Day, or birthday, you name it? Why is that such a tall order? Maybe I should just try batting for the other team? Somehow, I don't think that would be any simpler. _She sat at her desk, sulking and playing with the stapler. It was lunch-time.

Dylan came out of the lift as she was about to get on. "Hey, do you have a minute?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm on lunch, wanna come?"

"Ok." He followed her back onto the lift, looking sideways at her from under his long black lashes. She started to get a shaky feeling. _He's going to break up with me. I know it._ She said nothing, got a burger at one of the burger joints in the food court and sat down, taking a sip of pop. The greasy smell of the burger was overwhelming, and she'd been starving, but she wasn't so hungry now. "Let's talk."

He started slowly, darting his eyes to his lap, and back up at her face, apologetically. "You're right that you deserve to know what has been going on, why I've been distant. You're a nice girl…and I really like you…"

"But…" She knew it, just the way he was phrasing it was a preface to burning a bridge and setting fire to the buildings. _Oh, this is such a nice rustic village, perfect vacation spot, but you're not exactly what I wanted so I'm afraid I'll have to plunder it and salt your fields anyway. No, no baggage there,_ she thought bitterly.

"But…I don't think I can do this right now…I don't think it's you. I think that I'm not ready to get close to anyone."

She sat and stared at him. _What a fraggin' load! 'It's not you…it's me…'_ Just like that he'd decided that he didn't want to get close to anyone, after ardently pursuing her, and wasting two months of her life. Her lips were tight. "Fine. If that's what you want." She picked up her burger and fries and wrapped them up to go.

"Hey, are you ok? I mean—"

"Dylan, we just broke up. No, I'm not ok, but you can't do anything about it, so just let it alone. You just stated that you needed space, so take it. I need to not be around you. If you really want to be friends at some later time, maybe we can talk, but nothing is going to happen right now." Her eyes pierced him.

He shifted and stood up, tugging at his uniform uncomfortably. She grabbed her paper bag and returned to her office, leaving him to stand there. She nibbled at the burger and then rolled pieces of the bun into little bread balls, and burst into tears. After the spate, she aimed and shot the little bread pellets into the waste can like BBs until the little cluster was gone, and she buried herself in reports.

"YEEEEEHHHHHAAAAAAA!" Havah bellowed, jumping up and down with the ravers in the Down Below taverns, music pulsating around them. It was about a half an hour to midnight and she had long forsaken the vanilla jazz of the Zocalo, for the grittier tones of the Soiled Dove. She had been pounding hot chocolate like a Mayan king all night, and she watched the trails her hands made as she exuberantly howled to the music with the rest of the crowd. She grabbed a nearby Drazi, packed in with the rest of them, and wheeled him around in a clumsy waltz. The noise abated slightly as the television came on line to broadcast the President's New Year's speech. It had been quite a year, and Havah gazed up at the television, awaiting the speech. Santiago was reportedly going to reveal some of the new reforms being planned. One of them Havah had been particularly intrigued with, the opening of borders between some of the League worlds and Earth, a multiracial workforce program, giving other races more employment opportunities on Earth Alliance worlds, and giving Earthers more _legal _opportunities in the League worlds. The bartender turned down the music. There appeared to be three screens, right next to one another and then another series of screens posted at intervals throughout the place.

"It's the one in the middle." Someone leaned over to her. "Been there." He said with a grin, recognizing the goofy look she wore, trying to determine which of the screens was real.

_He's cute,_ she thought. She wasn't particularly interested in lengthy conversations with men, but it was better than being alone on New Year's Eve. She smiled back at the tousle-haired young man. He slung his arm around her shoulder, and they all waited for the speech, still hopping to the music at a lower volume. A couple of people shushed everyone. "Shut up! Listen, she said there's something wrong! Y'all better listen!" Everyone was watching the screens now. The ship was visible in front of the moon. Then, the giant disc blossomed into capillaries of fire and dissolved as though it had never existed. Everyone stared numbly at the screen as though the unreality of the moment might mean that at any second the real ISN report would link in and everything would continue as normal. But it didn't. Time remained as it was, except that there was a ship missing. Io stood alone, and the President was gone.

There was a moment of horrible silence, and then "Holy Shit, the President's dead!" As Havah watched through her haze, a freezing hand reached into her heart, oozing chilly fingers into every part of her body and mind. _This is what it feels like to stand at a cross-roads._ She thought. _To believe in nothing, and then see the Fates, spinning, weaving the tapestry, and ending the tale. _As she watched empty vacuum where a ship should have been, she felt the eyes of the Fates on all of them, through the atoms of space. Whatever the President would have done for Earth, he could no longer do it. The transfer point on Io was a road to somewhere else, but someone had decided that it would be closed. The irreversibility of it sat on all of their heads and was written in all of their faces as they watched. _I have seen this before_, Havah thought. That movie, JFK, those depictions of horror in the faces of the waving crowds, as the President was shot in front of them, whispers of smoke dissolving on a nearby grassy knoll. The residents and patrons of Babylon 5 never got to see Santiago die, only the ship explode, and there was no smoking gun, not even any bullet-holes. After all, explosions happened occasionally with no one to cause them, but it didn't matter. The effect of his death was the same. Havah stared at the screen, not hearing anything further the woman said. No one spoke much, frozen, with the music still playing absurdly. Someone moved from their collective rut and shut it off. The New Year came and went in eerie silence, as people melted back into the places from which they had come, in Down Below or other decks. The young man took his arm from Havah's shoulder. He looked angry. "Man, someone always has to mess things up! I liked him, first time in a while I've liked anyone from EarthGov! I'm tired of people who always claim to help down-and-out people and then just pull us out of space and stick us in worse situations on Earth! This is where we need to be, man! This is where it all happens!" He shook his head and tottered towards the door. He hesitated for a moment and Havah called out, "It's the one in the middle." He nodded and followed a small muttering crowd out.

The bar was almost empty. Some aliens remained, but even most of the aliens had vanished after such a catastrophic event. She left too, after some of the shock had worn off. She went up to the observation deck. It was deserted. The stars twinkled, unaffected. No one was here, so she kneeled, sitting on her heels in a meditative pose, her hands in loose fists on her thighs, breathing deep to her dantien, the area just below her navel. Nothing would ever be the same again, and she needed to prepare for the inevitable changes coming. She was still slightly woozy from the chocolate, and her motions still left trails before her eyes. She heard a sound next to her. Her pilot friend, Greg Seymour was stationed here, but she knew him from the kung fu school back home, silently kneeled next to her. He'd had the same idea. They sat for a few minutes, then bowed their foreheads to the floor before the stars, then stood up, one leg after another. Still taking deep breaths, she said, " Empty-handed forms?"

"Sure…Three Cranes?"

"Sure." They stood next to one another, bowed, and began _White Crane Spreads Its Wings_. Her flicks and sweeps were way off-balance at first, nearly sending her stumbling to the floor, partly because of the chocolate, partly because she was distracted, but as they cycled through the other sister forms, she steadied, focused.

"Three Birds?"

"Yeah." Their practice grew more intense, with more force as they snapped out finger jabs and elbows. _Lien Wu Chan_ , whirling palms and whirling legs. _Chei Chen, Connecting Fist_, pummeling the air in front of them. _Chi Kung Fu Hu Chen_, _Tiger Descends Golden Mountain_, the rending claws and primal rage of the great cat. They took cleansing breaths to control the reactions of their bodies to the exertion, sweating and panting.

"_Pakua_?" He said. _Eight Changes of the Palm._

She nodded and took a place across from him on the edge of an imaginary circle, him facing the wall, her facing the stars. They began the dance, circling one another, palms extended, walking the round. They sidestepped and wove, motion flowing like water around one another, always symmetrical, always closing the circle. The movement was slow, vibrating with muscular tension like wire cables. That was what was ahead of them. _The future is inevitable._ She thought. _You cannot resist it, the circle. Flow around it like water. Yield. _It was one thing to think this and understand the principle. It was another to practice it in a difficult time, to take this awareness into their bodies and understand it in the serenity of motion, balance, thought. They completed the form and stepped back, and bowed. They stepped through Yang Tai Chi, meditation in motion, trying to relax muscle fibers. She normally tried to do the form with her eyes closed, but there was no way in her current state that she could manage it without falling on her face. Then they stood looking at the stars.

"Do you think he was assassinated?" He asked.

"Yup." She answered.

Both pairs of eyes gazed into space.

"Yeah. Looked like it to me too." After another minute or so, "Well, I'm going to my quarters. It was cool going through forms with you. Good Night." He said amiably, neither of them knowing what to say next.

"I'll walk out with you." They wandered through hallways, passing pensive faces all the way.

When she returned to her quarters, she got ready for bed and then realized that she hadn't checked her messages. There was a message waiting. It was from Ambassador Delenn.

"Havah, I must speak with you about an important matter. Please come to my quarters as soon as possible. Thank you."

The message had come at 0800 hours. She had already left for work, deciding to be in early that day. Why hadn't Delenn simply come to her office? She knew where it was and hadn't been shy about coming before. But Havah had been out in the field most of the morning and afternoon, returning briefly before lunch, and then out again. If Delenn had stopped by, she may have missed her, and not left a message, or Havah simply had not gotten it. She headed for Delenn's quarters, and was met by the ambassador's aide, Lennier. He bowed politely to her.

"Hi, Mr. Lennier, I'm Havah Lassee. I got a message from the Ambassador to come see her, and that it was important. Is she around? I'm sorry to call so late, but I just got the message."

Lennier gave her a thoughtful look. "Yes. But I am afraid that the Ambassador is now indisposed and will be for some time."

"Oh, is everything alright, is she well?"

"I do not know."

"…Well, is there anything I can do? Do you know what she wanted to speak to me about?"

"Thank you for your concern, but unfortunately, there is nothing to do but wait. She must speak with you herself."

"Oh, well, can you let her know I stopped by, and let me know when she's no longer indisposed?"

"Of course. I believe she will contact you as soon as she is able."

"Ok, thanks…Have a happy New Year." She paused and peered around Lennier's shoulder. There was an intricate glass structure standing in the middle of the room, like one of those old puzzles from the science museum gift shops. It appeared to be constructed of dozens of colored glass pieces, culminating in a peak at the top, bracing a delicate triangle that looked unlike the others. The triangle was made of three slender glass rods strung together with a web of fragile wire, ensnaring a rhomboid chunk of pyrite crystal in the center. She had seen it before. Where? Even stranger, there was a giant egg sac in the corner. It looked like either the egg sac of a giant spider, or the chrysalis of a giant butterfly, a great grey shell strewn with fine silken filaments binding it to the wall. Something glowed and pulsed inside. A life form. She brushed past Lennier and walked closer to the cocoon, and Lennier moved protectively towards it. Closer up, she could see that the material was slightly translucent and through it she could discern the outline of a humanoid nose, chin, face. A person. Realization dawned on her and she looked incredulously at Lennier. "Indisposed?" Her most immediate horrible thought was that Delenn had been trapped by a gargantuan insect. But then, Mr. Lennier had done nothing to try to break through the cocoon. Perhaps the predator was still there. Were these the kind of bugs they were breeding in between decks, like the legendary giant sewer alligators of the Earth metropolises?

He bowed affirmation to her, trying to mask his distress.

"Have you called the doctor?" She asked.

"The doctor cannot help."

"Have you tried to get her out of that thing?"

"No, that would be too dangerous for her. She must remain until she is done."

"Done what, being eaten?"

Lennier looked slightly exasperated. "No." He paused, clearly not wanting to divulge too much. "Changing."

"You mean that's hers, that cocoon?"

"Yes." Lennier was squirming, at least as obviously as the young Minbari could, within his formal demeanor. So Havah swallowed the rest of her questions, resolving to ask more later.

"Oh, well, let me know if you need anything." _I'll just check back tomorrow or the next day, see if she's out…or alive._

"Thank you." He bowed, and she left him to his prayer or whatever he'd been doing to deal with the situation. _WOW! I wonder if she'll recover? I wonder what she'll be when she comes out? Is this part of the life process of the Minbari, or is this something random?_ Her head buzzing with unpleasant questions, Havah went to bed, wondering also, what mystery Delenn had sought her out for, and if it had been related to her process of transformation.

She found out about Garibaldi's injuries the next day, and went to Med Lab. He was still unconscious and his recovery was uncertain. There were guards posted because he had been shot. She could see Garibaldi lying there, his functions regulated by a respirator and other mechanical monstrosities, attended by medical personnel. And then she noticed that one of the men standing guard was Byers. That was entirely appropriate since he was Garibaldi's second-in-command, but every time she looked at the man she repressed a shudder. If it were her lying in Med Lab, she'd rather take her chances with the assailants. She watched Garibaldi for a few more minutes, trying to send good wishes at him, and then left. _Some New Year's Day_!

It had been nine days since the death of Santiago, and Sinclair was gone. He'd been called suddenly to Earth and no one knew why. James Hauth believed that it had to do with the evidence Garibaldi had discovered here on Babylon 5, indicating that the President had indeed been assassinated.

"What did he find?" Havah asked.

"Triangulation devices, set for the transfer point off of Io, the same place the President blew up."

"Wow, that's pretty conclusive! So then it had to have been a conspiracy, because triangulation involves different locations. And if Garibaldi was attacked by someone here, then someone on Babylon 5 was involved."

"Yep." He looked nervous and lowered his voice. "You can't pull off something like that alone. That was proved after the release of reports back in 2017, about the Kennedy assassination. Lone Gunman, my ass!"

"So you think Sinclair was called back to provide information on that?"

"That, or to keep information that he knew under control. You remember what I told you about Earth Gov's view of him. They have less control over him while he's here, and he's tenacious. When he wants to get information, he goes after it. And here, he's in a key position to do so. He also doesn't play games and isn't easily manipulated. Better to keep someone like that either very close, or too far away to have any effect."

"You think Earth Gov has information on this?"

"Maybe, or certain people do. Plausible deniability. Also, keep in mind, that they don't have to be involved in an assassination to benefit from it."

"How would they benefit from it?"

"Santiago was proposing some pretty radical programs, very heavy in alien government collaboration. That posed a huge threat, or at least a huge perceived threat, to Human-run corporations, particularly ones with multi-planetary investments. Too many other players. They wanted to be the only game in town for Humans and Earth-related business. Also, you have to think about how xenophobic people are getting. If we're more involved with alien governments, and they're more involved with us, and with non-Human businesses and cultures, that's more opportunity for interference. That scares the hell out of people accustomed to laissez faire politics and decentralized government. New business, new ideas, new competition, input from outsiders." He counted them off on his fingers.

"That seems awfully simplistic. That's been the story for ages, every time something like this happens. There has to be something more. I mean, it's got to be more complex than the same old issue over and over."

"Why? The fear of being replaced, and the fear of interference from people who don't share the same interests or views, are compelling fears. That's why they've survived centuries, across hundreds of cultures. So why would you think that the same issues wouldn't crop up? Watch people. People, whether they are Minbari, Centauri, Narn, or Human, they all hate change. I mean, why do you think there's such an emphasis on marketing strategies to push messages telling us that newer is better? They know that they have to present their products in ways that alter people's perceptions of change. So they neutralize our perception that change is bad by utilizing the other idea that people cling to, which is that they have to do what everyone else is doing, status quo. People's fear of change is transformed into the status quo, making it normal. People who market products are very clever, but governments usually are not so astute in advertising their policies. So every time something changes, we go into convulsions all over again because the same fears have to be tackled for each new phase of change. The situations people face don't look the same each time. Each step looks new to people, even though it is the same, because it might have a Minbari face on it, instead of a Jewish face, or Asian, or Black. That's why we saw prejudice for every new wave of immigrants in the old United States. Each wave looked different, and re-kindled old fears that we had overcome as soon as we learned to trust another group. That trust had to be earned for each group separately. I mean, look at how long it took us to get over our nationalistic humps enough to make an international Earth Government work. And we still haven't ironed it out completely, there are still significant problems and turf wars, even from agency to agency, which are all entirely Human. If we still get nervous about sharing within, and between Human agencies and businesses, why would it be unusual to see the same lack of acceptance of completely foreign agencies."

Havah sat, gnawing on the end of her pen. "Yeah, that's true. Santiago was pushing for some pretty radical reforms, just like Robert Eagle-Elk with the formation of Earth Gov, and JFK in his day, and they were all assassinated."

They both let their thoughts wander. James fiddled with his computer. Havah breached the silence. "So what now? Is Sinclair coming back, or is this for good?"

"For good. John Sheridan is coming in a day, although I don't know if it is a permanent post, or if he is merely attending to some business here. You remember that name, don't you?"

Her eyes widened and she sat up straight. "The guy that blew up the Minbari flagship, the Black Star, during the War! That John Sheridan?"

"The same." James lifted his eyebrows and tapped his desk with his pen.

"…I wonder what he's coming for? Where is Sinclair going?"

"I don't know yet."

"Won't Sheridan's presence piss off the Minbari?"

"Maybe, but they're not thinking about that right now. They're thinking about re-gaining some semblance of control after what happened with the President."

"Do you think they'll post him here? I mean, if they do, won't they lose the support of the Minbari, funding for the station and stuff?"

"Babylon 5 is mostly Earth Force funded now. Building it wasn't. Also you gotta remember that they are going to be focusing on maintaining Earther control, and it's likely that they are going to re-double their efforts on that. They may even look to certain groups to blame for what happened. Finding a scape-goat for this assassination is going to be more important than which alien groups are offended by their decisions. Haven't you noticed how they've been cracking down on the Marsies? Fear, control, that's what this is about. Resistance to change."

Havah sighed. "Well, have you met Sheridan? What's he like?"

"Never met him. He's got a good record with his men though. I know a guy who served on the Agammemnon with him. And I know Lieutenant Commander Ivanova served with him."

"Huh. Well, I wish I could've said goodbye to Sinclair. I liked him."

"You can always write to him. I'm sure when he gets reassigned, they can give you his post address."

"Yeah, if you hear anything let me know."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks." Havah tapped the lintel and wandered down the hall.

16


	8. Chapter 8

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 8: Changes

The Trigati had been sighted, like an ancient ghost, a Minbari war-cruiser that had gone renegade after the war rather than surrender to the Humans, as the Grey Council had ordered. Their general, Sinoval had committed suicide, martyred himself, rather than concede. And his crew, led by Sinoval's second-in-command, Kalain, had assumed self-imposed exile in protest of the order to surrender. For ten years, they had slid in and out of view. And now, they had renewed their jihad with phantom appearances near Babylon 5, the hated station that represented to them, the Human and Minbari collaboration. Satai Koplann meditated on the long trip to the station on how to stop the Trigati from attacking the station in retaliation for the War, or instigating another one. Things were no longer as simple as they had been during the War. Kalain's anger was justified, was it not? To someone who didn't know what the Grey Council knew, the surrender must have seemed weak and ludicrous. The only reason Koplann had agreed to it, was the insistence of the Religious Caste that mythical signs of a coming millennial war with darkness were coming to fruition, and they believed they had proof in Sinclair's soul, according to the Triluminary. But that reason was now beginning to sound poor even to him, and he had supposedly 'witnessed the sign.' And none of this meant anything to Kalain, who had lost too much, been away too long. As distasteful as this was going to be, Koplann could not think of any other way to avert the coming disaster, than to warn Sheridan, who was now responsible for the lives of all Minbari and aliens on the station, of the presence of the Trigati. The very idea made him want to vomit. Swallowing bile, he headed for the captain's office. Sheridan was not there, and so he had to have the man paged, adding indignation and irritation to the list of reasons he wanted to simply dismember Sheridan as soon as he strode in, with his second-in-command.

After a conversation that had been every bit as terrible as he envisioned it would be, Koplann stormed out of Sheridan's office. _Let the Trigati blow them to bits! And good riddance! I will not abide that murderer any longer! _And then he realized with a great deal of consternation that this would merely be giving the Star Killer yet another triumph over his people. And this was simply unacceptable. The Trigati must be stopped. His thoughts were so focused and intent that the small woman with long dark hair who had just passed him in the corridor almost escaped his notice. It was the little female soldier from the Line, dressed in civilian clothing now, a long skirt with a flower pattern, and knit blue sweater. He dimly drug from memory that she was now a scientist on the station. He slipped onto the lift after her to obtain a closer look. She was older now, eleven years. She had been little more than an adolescent then. While her height did not appear to have increased, her body looked fuller now, with none of the previous awkwardness. She had grown into her body and face, although her cheeks were still round and child-like. There was nothing child-like about her intense eyes. For a moment, he saw her again as he had that day eleven years ago, bound, disheveled, raving with hallucinations. The day they had surrendered. They were committed to the path, and she was a part of it, wasn't she. Havah Lassee. What a peculiar name. All the Humans had queer-sounding names, Jeffrey Sinclair…John Sheridan. He didn't like the combination of those syllables, odd, discordant, like their dispositions. She looked at him quizzically, and then smiled politely. He got off on the next floor and doubled back. There would be ample opportunity for observation later. And he had more important matters to attend to.

Havah passed a tall thin Minbari man in the hall on the way to her office, and thought nothing of it, until he followed her onto the lift. He looked familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd seen him, maybe around the station. That déjà vu had been happening a lot lately. He was older, the Minbari equivalent of mid-fifties, impeccably dressed in a tan brocade tunic. He had a sour haughty expression. He was looking at her strangely, and she had noticed his change of direction in the hallway, so he might be lost. If it had been anyone other than a reserved Minbari, who appeared to be generally annoyed with the Universe, she would have suspected a set-up for mugging. She smiled at him, hoping to diffuse the cloud of irritation steeping his features. He didn't smile back, but his face didn't darken any more as he nodded slightly to her and got off the lift. _Curmudgeon_, she thought.

Alyt Kirval received the coordinates of the station from his position in hyperspace, just as he had been instructed by the Grey Council. The Trigati was there. His instructions were to order the Trigati to stand down so that the ship could be boarded and returned to the home-world. The situation of the crew would be addressed once reaching home. There would be a tribunal before the Council of Caste Elders and the Grey Council. As soon as he jumped into normal space, he saw the renegade ship on the screen, waiting for instigation, like a gokh awaiting a shurvil to come out of it's hole before pouncing. Before a single order escaped his lips, he knew what the outcome would be. He had known Kalain. He thought of the man's ruddy face working in exertion in their wrestling matches at the Academy. Their competitiveness had been intense, over everything, scores, exercises, women they sought, command posts. But once the war started, their interactions had mellowed, and they would wave to one another, uncertain whether they would get another chance. Then, the long exile. And now, he found that he would miss the loud high-pitched voice and stubborn face, if this ended badly. Despite all the signs and the realistic options, there was a part of him that thought they would eventually come home and life would resume. It had been a ludicrous oversight. He knew many aboard the ship. They would never allow boarding, particularly Kalain. Satai Koplann had to have known that, but what else could they do? Kirval would not kill his fellow soldiers, renegade or not, and if it had been up to him, he would have just left the Humans and the entire blasted station to meet their gods at the hands of the Trigati. But the Grey Council would not be disobeyed. He gave the order to stand down, and the Trigati shifted position to return to hyperspace. He targeted their jump engines and watched as the engines were disabled.

They responded with a word that meant a great deal to all Minbari military everywhere. "Honor." He knew what that meant for them, and what action it preceded. The hit to their engines had been a clean one, he knew it had been, yet he watched helplessly as the ship reached critical mass and exploded with all lives aboard lost. He could almost feel the hole their souls left in the fabric of space as they escaped beyond the veil into another existence. What a terrible day. And now that blasted captain, Sheridan Star Killer, was contacting him. He wanted to spit at the screen. This man had had his hand in the deaths of thousands more Minbari, apparently the Black Star wasn't enough for him. And he didn't know when to keep quiet and go away. Sheridan thanked him for his help and smiled gratefully. SMILED! Kirval stared flatly, disbelieving this man's lack of consideration. He tersely gave his opinion of the situation and shut off the man's face before he could respond. _Let him rot!_

_Kalain is dead_, Koplann thought, mourning for his compatriot. _The whole crew of the Trigati is dead. There will be no returning home for them now. After the long war, after the long exile, they will never receive their justice. They are dead, and the Humans are to blame, at least in part. No, perhaps they did not kill them or fire on them. But Kalain committed suicide while in their custody, and they blew up their own ship rather than return to Minbar. We could not allow them to attack the station, and they believed that they would be dishonored in returning. It is because of the Humans that they were forced to make this choice in the first place. It is because of the Humans that they felt they could never return home again._ _And it was our orders that brought them to this_, he thought guiltily. _The Humans had better be worth all of the pain they have caused, or I will see to it that this sorrow is re-visited upon them! The Religious Caste had better be correct in their assumption, or they will be held equally responsible!_ Koplann lit candles for the lives of the heroes of the Trigati and meditated in his private chambers on the trip home to speed their souls to the gods.

Upon returning to Minbar, he held a military ceremony on the grounds of one of the prominent military training sites near the center of Yedor. People who had known any of the crew members came up one by one to speak words in their honor, and placed a bit of soil representing each of the members in a cairn dedicated to the fallen ship. Then the names of each member were enshrined in crystal next to the gymnasium, and a brigade flew in their honor, displaying astounding formations. The crew of the phantom ship were truly ghosts now.

Delenn moaned dejectedly from the floor of her quarters. Pain coursed through her whole body, organs adjusting to her new biology, and the air was freezing. Her chest hurt from coughing out fluid. She was too weak to move very much and her voice sounded strange to her. All she could do was curl into a ball and bear it. After a little while the pain subsided enough to allow her to move. She crawled to a closet and draped a robe over her body. Exhausted, she lay there until Lennier came in and heard her call him. He lifted the hood and nearly fainted. The skin over Delenn's entire face and body had dried and formed a thick black crust which had cracked like earth in a drought. There appeared to be new skin underneath it, but he didn't know whether it was safe to remove the crust and expose it to air. He didn't even know what kind of infection she was susceptible to, since he really didn't know what had happened to her. Neither did she. And she could feel something strange. There was something slick and tangled around her head. Hair. Like the Humans. Fright was beginning to add itself to the sensations making her stomach churn. She had Changed, over a long period of deep sleep. Upon awakening, she had found the soft cocoon she had began in, become hard and intractable. She had slowly strained and fought her way out of the papery confinement, strange fluids oozing from its walls and around her body. As dry as her skin was now, she had been soaked with sticky fluid. And then it began to evaporate as soon as she came fully into the outside air, explaining why she had been so cold. After recovering from the shock, Lennier rushed to the com panel and called Dr. Franklin to come and see her. She didn't protest. He was a Human doctor, and if there was any chance that this change had to do with Human biology, she wanted to know everything there was to know. Her pulse raced with fear. What if this was wrong, what if she never recovered from this, but remained a crippled aberration, an abomination? She could think of no other hybrids except Havah. There had also been the terrible rumors she had heard of Dilgar experimentation. Organized torture in the name of science, really. Why had the Vorlons ordered this? How could this be important in the coming Shadow War? She fought to keep her breathing calm. And then an odd thought occurred to her. _Is this how Humans are born? How distressing!_

Dr. Franklin arrived shortly, and a look of concern mixed with wonder crossed his face as he looked under the hood at her features. She held out her arm and he took it, gingerly running his hands along the cracked skin, and then crumbling some of the flakes. The skin underneath appeared to be healthy. He ran his instrument over her and her life-signs were extremely unusual. But he had seen this before. Havah Lassee had readings like these.

"It's alright. You'll be alright. You appear to be a hybrid, part Minbari, part Human physiology…" He shook his head, his face still questioning, "We should really get you to Med Lab—"

"No." She said more forcefully than either of them believed possible in her current state. "I am not leaving here until I know more, until this is resolved." She held out her arm, indicating the patchwork skin. Franklin sighed. She needed to be looked at with the care Med Lab had available, but under the circumstances, he could understand her reluctance, especially considering how private the Minbari were. "Look, how did this happen? It would help me to know how this happened." Lennier led him to the inner room and indicated the breached shell against the wall. Franklin walked slowly up to it and kneeled. Amazing! He knew she had been in this cocoon, but how had this change been possible. He turned to Lennier. "Is it alright if I take samples of this?"

Lennier nodded, "Anything that would help her."

He helped Delenn to her bed and ran another check of her readings.

"Everything still seems to be alright, but it will be hard to tell for a day or so. This has been a shock to your system, and if this biology is new to your body then you may be susceptible to infections. I'm going to vaccinate you against certain Human diseases in a couple of days when you've had a chance to build up normal immunity again. It's like being born again. When an infant is born, their system takes time to adjust to foreign organisms. In the meantime, get plenty of rest, and plenty of water. My readings indicated that you are dehydrated. Hydrating yourself will keep you from getting sick." He went and got her a glass of water and put a pitcher near her bed. "I'll come back to check on you again tomorrow."

Delenn assented, a dutiful patient, and closed her eyes. She was asleep within minutes.

He returned to Med Lab for a couple of supplies and returned to Delenn's quarters. He put on gloves and separated flakes of gray material from the mass and deposited them in vials, and then caught some of the viscous fluid drying on the edges. He was fascinated, having never seen the process of hybridization like this. A rare opportunity. Maybe later she would be willing to let him do a more thorough examination and run some tests, but for now, she should rest.

Franklin checked on her once more, making certain that her life-signs were stable, and then left, still puzzled.

The chunk of gray cocoon appeared to have layers. Franklin peeled a layer off and slid it into the microscope. It had the structure of collagen, or of oxidized material, like the cytoskeleton of a cell or a real butterfly cocoon. The next layer revealed more interesting features. "Remarkable," He muttered to no one in particular. There were microfilaments, and microtubules like veins for transporting fluid and attaching to the collagen wall. The innermost layer was astounding, and would have made the career of any Earth geneticist. This was amazing, he had never seen anything like this! This layer was packed with stem cells, undifferentiated cells containing DNA from both Human and Minbari chromosomes. These cells were totapotentiate hybrid cells! A picture was beginning to form of what had happened in that cocoon. He analyzed the fluid: amino acid soup containing more stem cells. He analyzed a bit of the crust that had come off of Delenn's skin: waste product, dead cells of all kinds, just as he had suspected. It was as though she had sloughed off the remnants of her old biology as it was being replaced. He re-constructed what had to have happened. She had to have begun with a power source and a large quantity of a raw soup containing all 20 of the essential amino acids, and both Human and Minbari DNA. The inner layer of the cocoon would have formed first. The cells on the inner wall would secrete a solvent to begin breaking down her cellular structure. Then the microfilaments and outer collagen layer would form, anchoring her dissolving body in place, while providing a flow of stem cells from the inner wall to her body. The cells in the inner wall would also secrete the fluid he had sampled, a constant bath of amino acids for nourishment, solvent, and stem cells to effect the re-stitching of her own DNA. It must have been much like the mitosis seen in fetal gestation, she would have to have returned to a near-fetal state, physically. At this point she would be suspended in the fluid which was simultaneously feeding her, and re-configuring her genetic and cellular make-up, weaving her to the walls of the cocoon. He paused at the thought. If anyone had tried to break into the cocoon at this point in the gestation, she would have been killed because her fibers and the walls of the cocoon were intermeshed. Ribosomes from the stem cells would unzip her DNA, then knit it back together with the hybrid DNA in the long sonata of transcription. Cell by cell, until she was whole again. An unpleasant process for a sentient being. Thankfully, she had probably been unconscious for most of it. He wondered if she had retained her memories, since he hadn't had a chance to question her yet. Neurons were some of the most differentiated cells in the body, but perhaps the mitosis hadn't taken place in the brain. Clearly, some basic memory remained intact for functions like walking, language, coordination. But how had this cocoon formed? What power source did she possess in her quarters that could do that? She must have mixed a sample of her own epithelial cells into the amino acid base beforehand, and that of a Human's, but again, where had she gotten it? And why, aside from an interest in splicing would anyone go through such an ordeal? This had been a highly organized procedure, and this level of splicing was extremely advanced. He knew the Minbari were technologically light-years ahead of many of the younger races, but this had been far beyond what anyone suspected. A part of him itched for just one look at the set-up of this experiment, and part of him just sat and pondered the discovery, overwhelmed by the implications.

When Delenn awoke, she felt better than she had. Her body no longer ached, and she was warm. Her new hair was still a matted sticky mess, however, and her skin itched incessantly with the crust still covering it. She slipped into the bathroom, still garbed in her robe. A ghastly apparition stared at her from the mirror. Caked fragments of crust blanketed her entire form and face, and her hair was foul-looking. She didn't know how she would ever care for it, she didn't even want to touch it. She laid down a sheet on the floor, and slowly scraped off chunks of the crust, piece by piece, until an hour or so later, her new skin was revealed. The sheet was littered with this debris, and she gathered it up into a wad and pushed it carefully into the recycling unit. Getting better, she thought. She slathered cleansing chemicals onto herself, and doused her sticky hair. The chemicals that she had been using her whole life had a strange smell to her now, and tingled slightly. She would have to let it let it sit for a while. But then realized that this alone would not take care of her hair. She had to have something to untangle it. She donned her robe again, and summoned Lennier, and informed him of her need.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, but I find that I am lacking the proper implements to attend to my appearance. My…hair is tangled, and I have nothing to untangle it. I have seen the Humans use tools with little bristles or teeth to untangle it."

"Yes. I do not know what they are called, but I have seen them. I will find one."

She bowed in appreciation, and sat down to wait, and reflect on her new situation. The events and sensations of the past several days paced through her mind. She remembered clearly her first few moments and her last few moments in the cocoon. Horrid memories. After curling up under the slowly forming blanket, she was overwhelmed by the most uncomfortable sensations she had ever experienced. She had felt like squirming and wriggling out of the strands beginning to encase her and never going back. There was an unbelievable heat that felt like it was burning into the deepest strata of her skin. But it wasn't a thermal heat because it felt like it was doing other things to her too. Moving things in her, crawling into her, unzipping her skin. It was terrible, but she felt like she was melting. Mercifully, something about the heat had also made her drowsy and she faded into sleep. She hadn't remembered any dreams though. She didn't know what kind of dreams that experience would inspire. Then, some indeterminate amount of time later, her consciousness had returned. Perhaps the pain had awoken her. Her whole body burned like liquid fire, and her lungs were full of fluid and she couldn't breathe. _How can one be on fire and drowning at the same time?_ She had opened her eyes to hot watery darkness and silence, except the muffled sounds she was making. She pushed against an invisible barrier and it started to give with all of her strength against it, and then she was spent. She had no more energy and she was going to drown in this tiny cell. And then she realized that she was breathing, and dozed off again, overheated. After a few periods of this she had finally breached the walls of her cell and saw a sliver of light, and after hours of struggling, the sliver turned into a yawning gap oozing the fluid she had been sleeping in. She clawed at the edges and worked her way out into freezing bright air of her own quarters, coughing and vomiting fluid, the cold air knifing into her lungs. What a strange terrible path. Why had she agreed to it? Oh yes…the Vorlons. Dukhat's last instructions to her had been to trust the Vorlons and work with them to gain the Humans as allies and prepare for the coming Shadow War, the war that had been prophesied by Valen, a thousand years ago. The Vorlons, in their infinite mystery had instructed her to make this change as soon as she received confirmation that the Shadows had returned to their home-world Z'hadum. They had given her the necessary materials to conduct the change, and she had the triluminary from the Grey Council, which had also very likely come, through Valen, from the Vorlons. _But why?_ _The question of how this provides us with an advantage against the Shadows is no clearer than it was_. Lennier returned with the hair implements. He extended them to her. "This is called a comb. And this one is called a brush. And this is called a …curling iron. That was what the man called it at the pharmacy. He said that it is for styling the hair into the shape that you desire."

She took the proffered gifts gratefully, and peered at the curling iron, end to end. There were instructions with it and she read them. After gazing in the mirror at her hair, she realized that she would need to rinse out the fluid that had dried there before doing anything else. She turned on the shower. She had used the shower upon occasion, simply because it was a pleasant sensation. Showers were Human commodities, and some other races used them, but this had never been typical for the Minbari. They used water for refreshment and recreation, and for cleansing in some cases, such as post-lavatory use if there were no anti-microbial lamps or gels. But they did not use immersion in water as a daily cleansing ritual as the Humans did. Since they didn't sweat in the same way, it had always been more effective to use a chemical solution rubbed over the body at night to draw out toxins, which were neutralized and evaporated during sleep. Sleeping robes were then recycled. Now, her skin had changed. She could feel the differences even if she couldn't explain the changes. The water was divine. And her head felt heavy as the water soaked through her hair, cascading down her neck. This would be the best way to untangle it. She slowly combed through the knots as the fluid washed out, until her hair hung shimmering down her shoulders, channeling the water, like waving river-weed. _What an odd feeling_, she thought as she stepped out and dried off. She finished getting dressed, leaving her damp hair to hang, liking the feel of it shifting around her head. After it dried, she brushed it again until it shined, and carefully followed the instructions for the curling iron, and watched as it took the shape shown on the diagram. _Most interesting!_ When she finished, she stood, surveying the results. The woman who looked back at her was not the same one that she had seen before. Her long dark hair curled to just below her shoulders. And her face still looked slightly Minbari. She had no eyebrows, and the same pronounced brow ridge, but it was less so than before, and her head-bone was narrower, about two inches in width. Instead of coming down over the back of her skull, it truncated just above her ears, ears that were now placed slightly higher. Her hair sprouted from her scalp just above the bone, covering the top of her head, and just below, to the nape of her neck. The reason Ambassador Kosh and the Vorlons had wanted this change, now became clear. She looked Human, at least partly. _People trust those who appear like them, those who can understand them. I have been studying Humans with that hope of learning to understand them, for the sake of peace. Now, perhaps, they will be able to see the earnesty in our desire to communicate. A symbol. But what now?_ She had to contact home, to let them know she was alive. Undoubtedly, they had learned of what she had undergone. And she had undergone this procedure without consulting any of the councils, the caste elders, or the government…using one of the holy relics in the custody of the Grey Council. The ensuing conversation would not be an enjoyable one.

Rohal's elderly face appeared on the screen. He was one of the few who had supported her in the past, in fact, he had trusted her with the keeping of the Triluminary, and she was relieved to see him. She smiled at him as he gazed at her in astonishment. After a moment, he regained control of his faculties. "It is good to see you again, old friend. I see from your appearance that it is true. You have undergone the Change. Are you alright?"

She nodded and smiled. "I am well, Rohal. It was difficult, but I understand the importance of it. Thank you for asking. How are the others."

He grimaced and said, "They are displeased with this, Delenn. You knew they would be. I am keeping my ear in the conversations, and trying to make them understand but they are talking of removing you permanently. Of voting you out. I thought you should know that. Satai Koplann was expressing doubts about you before he left, ever since you turned down the appointment to Leader of the Council. And Alyt Neroon has also been busy. He has gained a great deal of political weight, and he has been vocal as well. That would not matter so much, except that he has been gaining more and more of an audience lately, from both the other caste elders, and the rest of the Grey Council. In fact, there is talk, not only of removing you, but placing Neroon in your absence."

Delenn was stupefied. Neroon? "But he is a Warrior! That would throw the council into imbalance, there are already three Warrior Caste members, how can they select another? That is not the way Valen constructed the Council. Three workers, three warriors, three religious, it has been this way for a thousand years, and they want to change it now? With no precedent? And they have the audacity to complain about my change while effecting a far greater one?" If they were going to remove her, there should at least be another Religious Caste, and why Neroon? He was erratic, quick tempered, and hostile to most alien races. How could this be positive for Minbari foreign affairs?

"I know Delenn. I agree. But they are not thinking, merely reacting in their own fear, to the coming changes. You have become a representation to them, of that change."

She was not surprised really, that they were refusing to accept this change, or that they were in opposition to her decision to stay on Babylon 5, rather than be called home. This was too abstract for them. On the one hand, they were too far removed from the encroaching signs of the war, encapsulated on their ship. And yet this seclusion also made them too cautious, refusing to see what was ahead because it was easier to make decisions in the vagueness of their sanctum. It was easier to pretend that nothing was amiss, nothing was happening on the home-world, or on Babylon 5, or out on the Rim of known space. _It is easier to continue as before and…and 'stick our heads in the sand,' like that giant Earth bird, the…the canary_! So this is how it was going to be. She was not going to be swayed. This path had been chosen by Dukhat and she was not going to be made to feel like an erring acolyte! She came here to watch the Humans. And she was doing so. She had been charged by Dukhat to trust the Vorlons. And she was doing so. If these instructions were good enough for Dukhat, then they were good enough for her, and should have been good enough for the rest of them. _But they don't know. And it doesn't matter. I will do what I must, and if they remove me from the Council, then that is their choice and it was not meant to be._ Thinking of the Humans. She had been informed of Jeffrey Sinclair's reassignment. "Has Sinclair arrived? Is he well?"

"He has. And he is settling into his new quarters and posting as ambassador. The Warrior Caste is not happy with his presence here, but that was to be expected." He said wryly.

She sighed. "Yes. It was."

"Have you spoken with the girl yet?"

"No. She either did not receive my message in time, or chose not to come. I will see to it shortly. First I must attend to my duties on the Babylon 5 Advisory Council. They will be wondering about my status, and my life by now." She smirked.

"Undoubtedly. Well then, I will leave you to your duties. It is nice to see you and know that you came through this unharmed, the scandal of the Council notwithstanding!" He chuckled. "Inform me of Miss Lassee's response when you speak with her. I will relay the news of your well-being to others." The screen went blank and she readied herself to meet the Advisory Council.

After the meeting, she returned to her quarters and changed into one of the dresses she had worn in casual business around the station, a magenta under-dress with an eggshell-blue overcoat and belt. It still fit as it had before. She left a message on Havah Lassee's com.

That evening there was a chime at the door. Havah linked in. Delenn met her at the door. Havah just goggled at her for a few seconds and then realized that she was being rude. This was Delenn? Well, it looked like her…mostly. But the bald scalp was gone and she now sported dark brown meticulously curled hair. Havah resisted the desperate urge to pull the hair to see if it would come off. She just smiled at Delenn, wide-eyed. "Wow, it's nice to see that you are alright," completely ignoring the changes. _If she doesn't bring it up, I'm sure as hell not going to!_ "You asked to speak with me?"

"Yes. It is a matter of some importance." She led Havah to a divan and poured her a glass of water. Delenn looked intently at her as she spoke. She appeared almost nervous_. I wonder if she gets sweaty palms_, Havah thought distractedly. Delenn went to a panel in the wall and opened it with an automatic mechanism. There were a series of small rings on a dias, and the triangle trinket that Havah had seen atop the glass structure a week and a half ago. Delenn held up the object before her, so that Havah could see it clearly. "Do you remember this?"

Havah shifted back in her seat, wary now. "No, well, not really. It looks familiar, sort of."

"Memories were taken from you during the War."

Havah scowled. So that's what this was about. As Havah's eyes sharpened, Delenn continued. "I understand your anger, but this can help to restore them. I also understand why you would be reluctant to speak with me of this, but please trust me. We wish no further harm against you or the Humans."

Havah leveled her gaze, jaw set, to keep her teeth from grinding. "Alright. What is it, Ambassador? I'm all ears."

Delenn let out a deep breath. "This is a Triluminary. It is one of our most holy relics. Valen brought them as gifts a thousand years ago. It has certain…capabilities. It can unlock the part of your mind that has been locked. It is necessary for you to know this, because what happened to you during the War has to do with the reason we surrendered. And it was necessary to keep this from you until now because of the nature of that reason. You will understand soon. Place your fingers here and here." Havah grasped the thin rods, and Delenn moved her fingers into place for her. The structure vibrated and began to shimmer. The vibration moved through Havah's bones and into her mind. Pathways blocked for eleven years re-opened and the missing memories came flooding back, with perfect resolution and clarity. The giant finned ship, the dark chamber, the assembled Council sitting in judgment of her, tied to that device, the questioning, the glowing Triluminary and the strange presence in the darkness that no one seemed to notice. The Dreams. She heard Delenn's voice in the dark chamber. She heard another voice she recognized, the man from the lift. She felt a mind in her mind, the strange being with the encounter suit, although she couldn't see it here. She recognized it all. When she had encountered the shadow spirits surrounding the dark man in the Zocalo, that had been the same being in the encounter suit that had appeared at the door, who had seemed to float. It was his…its…voice. And then she saw and felt the Minbari telepath stealing a part of her mind. But none of it explained why she was here now, or why they had surrendered. She was going to love that explanation. It had better be good! She let go of the Triluminary and the elicited visions faded. The glaze left her eyes as they re-focused on Delenn.

Delenn was gazing at her, expectantly. "Did you see it, the Triluminary, in your memory? Do you remember the dream you had?"

"Yes."

"You do not understand why it glowed like that, do you?'

"No."

"It revealed to us, along with your dream, that you have a Minbari soul."

"You're joking." Havah knew how belligerent this sounded, but at the moment, didn't care.

"Please. Allow me to explain. I know this is unusual, but you must listen. There are reasons that we are certain of this. Beginning a couple thousand years ago, our people began changing. Fewer Minbari were being born in succeeding generations, and the succeeding generations seemed less than the ones before. Less intelligent, less motivated, less able. At the Battle of the Line, we took Jeffrey Sinclair aboard for questioning, and the Triluminary revealed in him, that he also had a Minbari soul. We brought more pilots aboard to confirm this or rule it out. As you must imagine, it was a hard concept for us to accept, as well. But it was true. Every pilot tested revealed the same results. Jeffrey Sinclair was the first, you were the last. We could not continue the War with this knowledge, that we were destroying the other half of our own spirits. As we have spoken before, you are aware that we believe in re-incarnation, as you call it. So it was determined that the souls of our past were being born into Human bodies, and that there must be a purpose in this occurrence."

Havah couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wanted to scream at the outrageousness of this proposition, or laugh, or something other than sit there. She sat, blinking at Delenn, and then had to interject. "Ok, ok. Well, there are a number of arguments that could be made against that assumption. 1. Most populations go through a process of growth and equilibrium. Isn't it more likely that a couple of thousand years ago, your population hit a plateau, an equilibrium with your current environment? I mean you are one of the oldest star-faring races. 2. What is that thing? You've said that it tested us and revealed that we had Minbari souls. Ok, how? How does an implement detect the nature of someone's soul? That's like the old breastplate of the Kohen Gadol, the Hebrew High Priest, that was supposed to be able to detect whether or not someone was lying in a trial? And people would be put to death over it…" She paused uncomfortably. "Are you sure that it measures what you think it measures? Have you ever used it to measure someone's soul before? Do you know if it's accurate? Has it been tested for validity or reliability? I'm not trying to poke holes in your balloon. Don't get me wrong, whatever reason you decided to call off the war, makes me glad you did. But this explanation is a little hard to fathom."

Delenn interjected again, determined. "I understand. It is a difficult thing to accept, certainly as a scientist. But our age as a race, and the possibility that we have hit a population plateau do not preclude what I am telling you. It must still be possible that when a race hits this equilibrium, that it is because their souls are leaving. I know that there is no way of proving this causality, but take it as a possibility that also has not been disproven. This argument aside, there is more. We do not question the Triluminary, out of respect for Valen, but even were that not so, something else happened to confirm its findings. Your dream. You dreamed of the Shadows, did you not? And of a young girl named Kuraal? What name were you called in the dream?"

Delenn knew about her dream because of the telepath, Havah thought. He had acted strangely. "Tiranni or Turanni or something like that. I keep having these dreams. In fact, the damn counselor I went to, to help me get rid of the dreams, told me I was speaking Minbari in the dream, when she hypnotized me. Why? Did you do that?" Havah was going to get the truth now.

"No. We did nothing to instigate that dream. This is what I am telling you. You dreamed of a real person from our history. Turanni was real, she was the chosen of Valen. She disappeared while looking for her child after the last Shadow War, a thousand years ago. There was no other way for you to have known this unless you were connected to her across time. You have her soul."

_This chick must be high!_ Havah moaned, she couldn't help herself. "Oh hell! With all due respect, look, I understand you would think that because of your belief in re-incarnation, but the chosen of Valen? I mean, isn't it equally likely that I picked up these thoughts or read that all somewhere or something? I'm not a telepath but stranger things have happened." _Especially here_, Havah thought.

Delenn shook her head, new hair bouncing. "You knew precise details that you could not have read anywhere! Not unless you were Minbari. You knew rumors that have not been written down, oral tradition."

Havah paused. Delenn was absolutely in earnest. Havah didn't even know if she believed in re-incarnation, but she could see that Delenn completely did. And completely believed in what she was telling Havah. She questioned Delenn. "So you were there, you helped make this decision."

"Yes."

"Then you're not just an ambassador, are you? You're on the Grey Council."

Delenn bowed her head in confirmation.

"I see…So help me get this straight so far…Your Honor…actually, it's Satai isn't it? I remember that much from the dream…"

"Delenn will do fine." Delenn said gently.

"Help me understand this. Does the Grey Council vote on decisions like this?"

"Yes. The majority have to agree, Worker, Warrior, and Religious. The Council is made up of three members of each caste."

"Is that why the warriors are so pissed off still? They didn't agree to the surrender, or didn't buy the reason you gave them?"

Delenn hesitated. "The generals were not given the reason for the surrender. That knowledge would have torn our world apart, and we did not believe that yours was ready for it either."

_Ah, making decisions for us already, I see. Well, she's probably right about Earth though._ "Forgive me for saying this, I'm not challenging your rationale, and frankly, I can't believe that I'm saying anything to bat for the Warrior Caste, but I kind of understand then, why they're angry. I mean, put yourself in their shoes. You train your whole career, or even your whole life to sacrifice yourself, or kill others, and are drilled with the view that others who are not like you could be a threat, and it is your duty to protect people against any threat. When you fight, when you go to war, you depersonalize the other side. It is the only way that you can get yourself to kill them without being devastated by the actions you are committed to. That takes a toll. And it requires a heavy sense of responsibility and investment. Even without giving your life, you live with the possibility of doing so, or with the possibility of being permanently maimed and living with pain and disability or disfigurement for the rest of your life, along with all of the social ramifications of such injuries. It shapes you. It takes pieces of your life, of your time, of your spirit that are not being used for other things. So when you asked them to surrender, you were asking more of them than is obvious, you were asking them to give up what they had already invested. It is extremely hard, when you have committed yourself to viewing your enemy as evil or non-sentient, to throw on the brakes and say, 'Oh, they're people now', because that comes with all kinds of extra baggage. On the one hand, they're giving up on the time they have lost shaping themselves to their commitment, time that may have been for nothing. And now also, they have to face the weight of personalizing their combatants, who now look like victims. Again, don't get me wrong. I have no desire to fight your warriors again, and I'm glad the war was ended. But then, after asking that sacrifice of them, to not tell them why, is sort of…insulting, because it would say to me, if I were them, that my sense of responsibility wasn't valued. These people had the conviction and courage to stand up and defend your people, it would seem that they would have earned the regard of autonomous adults capable of evaluating logic for themselves, whether they have to obey or not. They should at least be given the opportunity to hear the reason and agree or disagree in private."

Delenn looked at her strangely. "Yes, unfortunately, I do not know if the results would be as simple as that. But I…appreciate your candor. They do deserve to be acknowledged, but your argument has two sides. It is for that very reason, their sacrifice, that we could not tell them. Either they would simply not have believed us, due to this depersonalization, and it would have been impossible to convince them of your sentience, time was critical, or the burden of lives they had taken, after learning of the state of your souls, would have been crushing. A terrible realization to come to, after fighting so hard, to find out that your mission was false. Certainly, they deserve the right to come to their own conclusions. But we would have spared them what pain we could. It was going to be difficult enough, and we had to be certain that you would not continue to be threatened. We needed time to rebuild the damage done to our society by the long years of war, without further upheavals. And that secret must still be kept until we can find a way to tell them."

"My lips are sealed. I would never interfere. Well…and thank you for the consideration. Like I said, I have no desire to ever fight them again, and I'm glad that you stopped it, however it was you did it. But there's more I don't understand. Why now? Why tell me all this? What does my dream or my soul or whatever, have to do with why you wanted to see me?"

Delenn thought for a moment. It was requested to have Havah posted on their home-world, for closer observation, and to assist in preparing for the coming War, because of her probable role in the last one. But Havah, clearly had difficulty with the credibility of the link between their races, or the reason events were unfolding as they were. Perhaps Havah leaned more towards…free will, as they had discussed earlier. How Delenn presented her requests and reasoning would be critical. This woman was obviously very wary of any mention of her dreams, and despite her willingness to talk about metaphysical or spiritual matters theoretically, she was not ready to consider them as part of her life. "As I mentioned, there are changes coming, in the galaxy. According to the historical documents, Valen predicted that the Shadows, the race he fought a thousand years ago, would return. And the time predicted is almost here. We believe this. You do not have to. In any case, the possibility of these changes have brought to our attention certain needs we have, regardless of whether or not history happens as it was predicted. And we would like to take the opportunity to address these needs."

Havah just waited.

"You were trained as an anthropologist, yes? And you are trained in public health?"

"That's correct."

"My proposition comes with the backing of the Grey Council. They would like to offer you a position as an anthropologist on our world. What we have need of is a better understanding of other races, and we also have need of a way to give other races a better understanding of ours. However, as you know, we have been secluded from other races for some time now. We are not used to alien influences. But since we are looking to open our world to visitation by other races, I believe you call it…tourism, there will be a need of someone with…social science skills, someone with a broad understanding of culture and society? Sociology? Jeffrey Sinclair has been re-assigned there at our request as an ambassador, and a representative of Earth, but we also require someone who can compile information about us in a sensitive manner and put it into forms other races will understand. Do you see? This will help to buffer the increased interaction between the Minbari and other races, including Humans."

"So you want me to do an ethnography? That would be a great opportunity, for me as well, but the problem is that an anthropologist has to be an objective observer, and a participant as well. So this person has to have access to all kinds of areas of society. I'm afraid I closed a lot of those doors with my actions during the War. I don't imagine that the Warrior Caste would be at all willing to put up with me asking all kinds of questions. Also, I'm more than a little concerned with this idea that I have the soul of someone very important to a lot of people on your world. If people were to believe that, not only would it affect the nature of the data they gave me, but it would be extraordinarily unethical for me to ask information of them. There's a moratorium in social science, in any science, on using influence to get information. And influence based on what they thought of me might have a profound effect on their decision to participate and talk to me about anything. It's a concept called 'informed consent', and it was instituted to protect participants in science experiments from human rights abuses. There was a time in the past, when researchers did horrible things, in the perceived name of science, just like the Dilgar. As the sciences matured, we developed ethical guidelines that have been codified, and informed consent is one of those principles. It is very organized, and everything has to be passed through a Sentient Rights Review Board, during which the proposed research project is measured against these principles that have been very strictly developed. Informed consent states that a participant in a research project has to be completely aware of the ramifications of the project on him or herself, the benefits that they can or cannot gain from participating, the nature and extent of the harm that can come to them from participating, even non-tangible harm such as family censure or emotional distress. And the decision to participate has to be autonomous. The person has to be capable of making autonomous decisions. For instance, a child could not make the decision, a care-taker would have to speak for them, and even then they have to give their own permission. And also, even after knowing all that, the participant cannot feel pressure to consent in any way, so their motivation for participating has to be evaluated. People can feel pressure for all kinds of reasons, for food, if they are in need. If they are incarcerated, sometimes prisoners feel that they will have a shorter sentence if they participate, or experience poor treatment by their captors if they don't. In the case of your citizens, they might feel pressured to participate because of a social more, and I am bound by the ethics of social science not to take advantage of that. Especially since the majority of your population is so…unaware of foreign ways."

Delenn spoke warmly. "It is this caution, this desire to protect the people you investigate that convinces me that you can be trusted with this proposal."

"Those are just the guidelines, any social scientist would tell you the same thing." 

"Perhaps, but not all scientists would follow them closely, and I believe you would. Also, the question of this influence due to what we know of you is not an issue. This is not wide-spread knowledge, it is confined to the Grey Council. What is most known of you, are your actions during the War. And while it is true that the Warrior Caste are not fond of you, and would not be happy with your presence, they will not be happy with the presence of any Human. Yet the decision has still been made to open our world, within certain limits, to off-worlders, and so whether you are present or not, they will have to learn to live with Humans and the presence of other races. That is the whole point of our need. We cannot form effective alliances or friendships if we do not learn to work with other races. And, Havah Lassee, while they were 'unhappy' with your actions during the War, they also gained a small degree of respect, although they would eat an entire storage house full of alien food before they would ever admit this. You fought well and without dishonor, and you are…a known quantity to them. Because of the War, they know more about you than they would know about any other researcher." Delenn finished, placing her hands on her lap.

_I don't know if I like the sound of that. An interesting argument though_, Havah thought. "I'm going to have to give this some heavy thought. I am really more geared towards epidemiology now, than anthropology. I'm really fond of my job too, and I can't just leave them in the lurch. I need to give them sufficient notice and train someone else if I were to leave. And I'm still really not sure that I can be of much use as far as cultural relations. I'm not very diplomatic or sensitive. There are reasons I got out of anthropology. But it does sound like a great opportunity in many ways, and I have to admit that I am very curious about the Minbari." _More curious than you realize!_ She thought. This might be a perfect opportunity to learn more about her father's ways, his people, his life. _And it's not like I have a relationship here holding me back!_ She thought sorely of Dylan.

"Of course! Please consider the offer carefully. I believe you would be a great asset to our world and yours, in this capacity. But if you chose to remain here, I would understand." _I would understand, but it would make things far more complicated._ Delenn smiled encouragingly. "And of course, if you chose to accommodate us, we would expect you to need a period of time to wrap up your position here. Following this, we could bring you to Minbar and assure that all of your requirements were provided for."

"That's a very generous offer. When do you need an answer by?"

"As soon as possible. But if you are asking if there is an expiration date, there is not. The Grey Council is not particularly comfortable with anyone else for this task."

"Wow. Well, then, I'll think quickly, and let you know as soon as possible. I'll try to let you know within the next few days. Is that acceptable?"

Delenn bowed happily. "Yes, such decisions cannot be made lightly. Thank you for staying and listening. I know that this cannot have been a comfortable conversation to have."

Havah nodded, and left. That night she lay awake, all of the information and the unblocked memories cycling through her head. These were the people who had captured her and pried into her mind. But they, at least certain factions now, seemed to want re-conciliation of some kind. Maybe she should give it a chance. It would give her a chance to learn more about her father, about that side of her genetics and nature. That could be important. And Dylan wasn't around anymore, and she really didn't want to see him casually around the station. And, it was a cherry opportunity for any anthropologist. _But I'm not an anthropologist. And my father doesn't want me, or wouldn't if he knew he was my father. There are plenty of people on that world who want nothing better than to stick knives in my eyes. What if it's a trap? And another busted relationship is no reason to shift careers. I love my job now, and the people I work with. Is this seemingly-good opportunity good enough to risk what I already have?_ Her thoughts spun like that, around and around, all night, like a little motor revving out of control, and by morning she was tired, cranky, and no closer to an answer. She told Carmen of the offer. She had to. Carmen had been so loyal to her employees and she had trained her, so Havah needed to give her some warning of what might happen. Havah was also secretly hoping that Carmen could provide her with some way of making a decision. But while Carmen certainly expressed her displeasure at the offer and the prospect of losing a good epidemiologist, she couldn't help Havah decide what was best for her. Havah waited for almost a week, looking for some sign, something to turn her decision in one direction or another, but nothing presented itself. So finally, not wanting to keep the 'Ambassador' waiting too long, she just sighed and made a decision. There was nothing portentous, nothing to make her choices fit into a neat little box, telling her where to go, nothing to indicate any ordainment. She might as well have flipped a coin. Just like that. She had always been into adventure, into trying new things. In some ways she didn't like to take risks, but it came down to regretting trying something versus regretting not-trying something. _I think that I probably will regret this, but here's to roller-coaster rides!_ Havah slunk into work and informed Carmen of her decision. There was about ten minutes of good-natured guilt trip, and then Carmen hugged her and congratulated her. "I knew once you were trained, you'd get a bigger fish biting! Now that you've turned from an ugly-duckling intern into a swan epidemiologist!" Carmen sighed dramatically and raised the back of her hand to her forehead in a theatrical gesture. The staff all laughed. Havah went to Delenn and gave her the answer. Delenn hugged her delightedly. _Odd_, Havah thought, for someone who was never demonstrative. Delenn began giving her information to prepare for the post. At home that night, Havah was buried in paper-work. _You would think, with such an advanced technology that they would have gotten past all the paper!_ _Maybe it's a government thing._ She whistled as she read.

End Part I.

18


	9. Chapter 9

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Part II

Chapter 9: Minbar

It was the end of the first week of February back home, as Havah's little transport docked in the landing facility on Yedor, Minbar's capitol. It had been an interesting few weeks, and was about to get far more interesting. Carmen and other public health and med lab people had thrown her a goodbye potluck, with a dark chocolate cake. And they had all pitched in and gotten her a tee-shirt with a Babylon 5 Public health logo over the breast in front, and "Staff", spelled instead "Staph," for 'staphylococcus' across the back. _Only a bunch of geeks_, she thought fondly, missing them already. _At least Commander…Ambassador Sinclair is here and I'll get to say hi._ The view had been positively gorgeous. The air looked so fresh. She knew the air recycling units on Babylon 5 made the air clean, but it wasn't the same. She pressed her nose to the window, until they docked. The door opened and they were herded into a central processing bay. A bureaucrat in a tan and blue tunic began sifting through papers. Armed guards in black, with pistols stood menacingly on either side of the entrance past the bureaucrat. _I don't think anyone's going to try to book it past them_, she thought.

When it was her turn, she handed her card to the man. He read her name and information and looked up at her, puzzled, and looked back at the card, double-checking. Just as he was flipping the card over, one of the guards approached and demanded to see her card. He took the card from the seated man. He glared at her balefully. Havah wanted to melt into the floor. He motioned the other guard over and showed him her card. He said something in Minbari to his partner, and the second guard drew his gun and shoved her down on the ground, shackling her wrists. They pulled her up roughly, yelling harshly at her in Minbari, as if saying it louder would make her understand. One of the guards grabbed her bags and began pulling out clothing and books. She just hoped they didn't do strip searches.

As he went through the bag, another Minbari male in white and tan robes entered hurriedly through the door and up to the guards, shouting at them as he approached, and another one followed him. As soon as the guards saw him, they halted. The one searching through her bag drew his hand immediately out, and stood looking at his feet. The man then said in impeccable English, for her benefit. "Release her at once." The warrior holding her lowered his gun and undid the restraints. She edged away from him. The man continued, "This woman is here at the request of the Grey Council. She is to be treated with respect. Such behavior towards her will not occur again. Return to your posts."

They did so without another word, or another glance at her. _Oh, so they understand English, do they?_ She thought acerbically.

Havah repacked her bags, and the younger man held out his hands to take them from her. "Oh…thank you…uh…Shu loa ren…uh…sorry if I just butchered that." She attempted the phrase in Religious Caste Minbari, uncertain whether that was even the correct caste. But he smiled widely and bowed.

Then the man who had defended her spoke, bowing diplomatically. "I apologize for the incident. I should have been here to meet you. I am Rathenn. I hope that your trip…until now…has been uneventful. Please let us escort you to your quarters. I imagine that you are tired from the trip and wish to relax. It is a long flight. This is my aide Korat. He will assist you with your belongings." They began walking.

As soon as she heard his name, Havah realized whom she was speaking to. She had read thoroughly the information Delenn had given her. They had sent a member of the Grey Council itself to meet her at the dock. _Geez, they really are serious._ She dropped her eyes when she replied, as indicated by protocol. "Thank you, Satai Rathenn. Actually, it's my fault, I think I came on an earlier shuttle than originally scheduled."

"It is not necessary for you to address me formally here, Miss Lassee. But I appreciate your attention to our customs."

She looked up at him and smiled. He was younger than she had first assumed, close to her in age. He had quite a Roman nose, for someone who hadn't a drop of Roman blood. His robe reminded her of the dress worn by the Roman senators. Appropriate. And Satai was a term equivalent to 'Honorable.' The other young man, Korat, hefted her bags without effort and glanced shyly at her. He was tall and appeared to be in his early twenties or late teens, or whatever the equivalent was here. It was hard to tell though, since the Minbari were a long-lived race. As soon as they stepped outside the building, the feel and smell of the air overwhelmed her and she paused, inhaling deeply. Rathenn also paused. "You have been on the station for a very long time?"

"A year."

"It is likely to rain later this afternoon."

"I know I can smell it."

"Yes…it is a pleasant smell, and we have a great deal of it here. If you do not have suitable garments for our weather we can provide them."

"Oh, no, thank you, I have plenty. I never got rid of my clothes from New York, and it seems like the climate is similar."

"New York?…Ah, 'the Big Apple?' I have read about this place. Very exciting."

Havah laughed. "Yeah, it's quite a place."

A flyer was waiting for them. After Havah climbed in and got her belts fastened, Rathenn continued. "Your quarters are in the western side of the city, near the diplomatic office. They are in close proximity to Ambassador Sinclair's and also to many of what we consider cultural forums. We can assign you an assistant to guide you through the city and help with your information-gathering."

"Oh, thank you, that would be very helpful!"

"The attache will also be able to help you with our language…although it seems as though you have made a good start. Our languages and dialects are difficult to those who do not grow up speaking them. There is much meaning in simple nuance or inflection, as you will find."

She blushed, remembering her meager attempt. The flyer arrived at a large elegant compound. There was a courtyard beyond the parking area and the initial entrance, and a pond with a crystal fountain to one side. Tall trees shaded it and were dotted about the yard and next to the residences. They entered a lift that irised closed after her, although there was also a curving stairway carved of some opaque jade-like stone. Her quarters were spacious, a room for sleeping, a room for study, a central room for guests or leisure, a wash-room for daily cleansing rituals, and a food preparation area, although Rathenn informed her that someone would be bringing her meals, since she was not familiar with Minbari cuisine as yet. There was also a rather large open patio with a couple of benches. How much would this cost if she wasn't 'an honored guest of the Grey Council'? Rathenn noticed her expression. "I hope this is sufficient for your needs. If it is not we can—"

"Oh, no Satai Rathenn, this is just fine! It's…it's huge! You should have seen my quarters aboard the station. They were the size of this one room!"

He smiled graciously. "Yes, well we have a bit more space available. I am pleased that they suit you. We will leave you now to rest from your journey. Here is a link to our central network if you have need of anything. It is capable of sending transmissions to interplanetary coordinates as well. I imagine that your family will wish to know that you arrived safely…"

_Great…Cable!_ She thought.

Rathenn led her to the washing room and indicated the antibacterial lamp and the Minbari version of a toilet. It appeared to use chemicals rather than water. In the corner was a very Human-looking shower. "It was brought to our attention that Human skin does not tolerate the cleansing chemicals that we use, so we acquired one of these…showers."

Her eyes widened. "Satai Rathenn, wow, thank you, this was done for us?"

"We will need to include them in units in many places in this city, if we expect other races, Humans, Centauri, other races that use water in this manner, to visit Minbar for any length of time."

"Oh, I see." Havah nodded gratefully.

"In some areas we have sonic 'showers', where it is too difficult to recycle water, just as you had on the station. But we have learned that this type of shower is very pleasant and relaxing, and I have heard from friends in architecture and engineering that some Minbari are beginning to request them."

"So…What do Minbari do? I mean…" She didn't know how to ask the question without being rude, 'how do you bathe?' "If you don't use water in the same way as Humans?"

Ah…" Rathenn paused. "At night we exude a compound similar to your sweat. It is a type of oil which simultaneously gets rid of toxins, and also keeps our skin healthy against microbes. We get rid of the excess in the morning by using a chemical compound…I believe you would call it a 'peel'. It hardens and we use a sonic device like a shower, to remove the particles."

"Oh…Fascinating. So what did Minbari use before sonic showers?"

"We used…scrapers…Very hard on the skin. But that was centuries ago."

"Just like the Greeks."

Rathenn looked puzzled for a moment. And then a light dawned. "Yes, I believe I have read about these Greeks. I did not know this about them. They also used such a method, did they not have Human physiology?"

"Oh, they did, but fresh water was precious and Humans have experimented with different ways of cleaning, plumbing, building. All dependent on the culture and region."

"Yes, Humans have many cultures. And it seems they change greatly over time." He nodded curiously. "We have as much to learn about Humans as you have to learn about us. I do hope that you will assist us in such education. In the meantime, I will leave you to your leisure, for a while. Someone will be sent with the mid-day meal. We tried to select food most similar to Earth foods, at least until your system adjusts. And then if you would, please join me for debriefing. Since you are new here, I will return to escort you in five solar hours. Is that sufficient?"

"Yes, Satai Rathenn. That's plenty. Thank you."

He and his attaché bowed and left. After he left, Havah wandered over to the console and turned it on. After a year on a space station, still, the first thing she gravitated to was the television. _Sad_, she thought. _Let's see what kinds of programs the Minbari watch._ The first channel appeared to be a news program, although she couldn't understand a word. The next channel was airing some sort of play, from the dramatic tones of voice and inflections. Another channel aired some sort of historical show or a thesis on architecture and engineering by the scenery. Another revealed what appeared to be a religious ritual, and finally, there was of all things, a cooking show. She could recognize a show about food anywhere in the galaxy, and they didn't appear to have many differences from planet to planet. She couldn't understand the woman, but the sight of the food was making her hungry. She switched off the monitor and went outside. As she stood marveling at the stone in the staircase, it began to drizzle, and then pour. It felt wonderful. Havah whooped and half-ran, half-slid the rest of the way down the stairs. She was soaked to the skin by the time she got to the middle of the courtyard. Thunder cracked nearby as she kicked off her shoes and socks, hoping there was no taboo against showing one's feet. A Minbari female stopped on her way, in the entrance to the flyer-yard, watching the spectacle Havah was making. Havah didn't care, it was so nice to be planet-side. She hiked her elbows up and stomped as hard as she could in the growing puddle around her, sending splashes everywhere, jumping up and down for good measure, laughing uproariously. The woman probably already thought her insane. _Atta way to meet the neighbors_, she thought. She tilted her head back and watched with squinted eyes, as the drops sliced through the air, dousing her face and outstretched tongue with cold kisses. The woman cleared her throat. Havah looked down as the woman approached, holding up an edge of a long water-proof sheet. "Are you well?"

_You mean, Are you crazy?_ "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Havah shouted over the thunder. "I've just been on a space-station for a year. I missed the rain."

"Yes, I see. I can understand that. My name is Birin. Many people just call me Bir."

"Beer? That's quite a name. My name is Havah." She extended her hand, but as Birin went to take it she slipped on the wet grass and sprawled, elegant robes in the mud. Havah desperately tried to stifle a guffaw and failed. She held out her hand to help Bir, before she could look any more hurt, and asked if she was ok.

Bir sat for a moment and then burst into giggles and took Havah's hand. At that moment, Havah knew she would end up on the ground. It seemed like a universal law that such situations had to end ungracefully. At Bir's hearty yank, Havah tumbled into the puddle next to her, splashing streaks of mud all over both of them, sending Bir into gales of laughter.

"Hey," Havah said, sitting mournfully in the mud, "You did that on purpose!"

Bir couldn't answer through gasps for air. Havah grinned, already liking this woman. _How could I not! Her name is Beer!_ After regaining her composure, Bir replied, standing to help Havah up, "I am sorry. I do not know what came over me." She smiled.

"No, it's fine, I was already wet. I like stomping in the rain."

"Yes…" Bir ran a couple of steps and leaped into the dead-center of an enormous puddle, laughing again, and shaking her ruined robes. "When I was a child, I used to do the same thing. My mother used to reprimand me for destroying my temple clothes." She gave Havah a sly grin.

"Temple?"

"Yes, my parents used to bring me. They were both in the service of the main temple here in Yedor. I joined as an…acolyte, is your word?"

"So what do you do?" They walked to the entrance, and stood dripping.

"I preserve and monitor some of our sacred scrolls. Soon, I will begin investigation of the scrolls of other worlds and compare them to ours."

"Oh, so you do text analysis?"

"Yes, that is a good description. What do you do?"

"Well, I'm here to write an ethnography, I think. I was brought here to gather information about Minbari culture and compile it in a way that can be understood by other races."

Bir's smile widened. "So you seek information about us. And I am very curious about Humans! We must talk sometime. I have to go change, I have an appointment, but perhaps we can speak later? You are quartered here, yes?"

"Yes, my room is right up there." Havah moved into the rain and pointed to her veranda.

"I have the rooms all the way to the right, that way." Bir indicated the corner. "I will be home tonight, if you wish to call." She bowed and hurried into the deluge. Havah shook her head and returned to her quarters, squeaking a trail of water and mud across the alabaster floor. She changed into dry clothes, shivering, and mopped up with a plush towel that had been left near the shower. The door chimed and a man in tan robes arrived with her supper. He entered briskly, bowed and then left, having spoken not a word. _Hmm._ Havah paused, but didn't spare much thought. She was starving. She sat down and looked at the food. It was the most peculiar culinary assemblage she had ever seen. There was a fat slab of meat looking like sirloin, drenched with something that tasted suspiciously like curry, a small cup of grains, like puffed rice, and a dollop of pudding-like cream, with a handful of boiled red beans to the side. It was as though, unable to know which of Earth's foods would be appropriate, they decided to try to include as many as they could fit onto one plate. As her nose got near one of the beans, she got a whiff of peppery steam. _Whoa, this is hot!_ She touched it to the tip of her tongue and spent the next few minutes gulping water to relieve the burn. _Funny, I always thought their food would be bland. Maybe they __**are **__trying to kill me._ After the meal, she brought the dishes to the kitchen area, which had a sonic washer.

_Trell!_, she remembered. Of course she remembered him in connection with food. _He said if I was ever in town…I wonder if his coordinates are still good?_ In the disorganization of arriving and settling, she had completely forgotten about trying to contact him, and now searched through her bags and papers for his information. She left a message, since he didn't appear to be there. It was nice to see a familiar face. He didn't look much different on the recording, than he had when she met him in New York. She went into the bedroom to lie down for a spell. Bedroom was a loose term, considering that the tilted contraption at the side of the room looked nothing like a bed. It was a long padded pallet tilted at a forty-five degree angle. She glared cynically at it and then took out her sleeping bag and laid down on the floor next to it, without even trying to mount it. She curled into a ball and fell asleep for a couple of hours.

When Rathenn chimed at the door, she was ready, having donned a skirt, blouse and business blazer and raincoat.

"How was your meal? Was it to your satisfaction?"

"Oh, yes, it was interesting. What were those peppers?"

"Terkala beans. They are relished among the Warrior Caste. We thought perhaps that this would be appropriate, but we also wanted to provide you with foods similar to foods from your home-world, to give your system time to adjust to new cuisine. One of the cooks found something on Babylon 5 called curry. She said it is a common Human spice."

A laugh escaped before Havah could stop it. "Yes, it is. It's from India." Havah followed Rathenn into the street. The polished flagstones echoed in the quiet corridor as a rainy breeze sang through a pair of crystal cupolas across the road. Out on the main thoroughfare, people bustled and flyers glided past. They turned through a few broad streets and approached a small complex with a diminutive Earth Alliance flag marking the entrance. This was the embassy building and diplomatic office. Rathenn bowed slightly to her, ushering her into the central foyer before him.

He pressed a com panel on the wall and a familiar voice answered, Ambassador Sinclair. "Please Rathenn, come in."

As Havah walked in, Sinclair's rare grin greeted her. He was dressed in formal Earth-style business wear. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him out of uniform. _It must be killing him_, she thought amusingly. He grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her into a bear-hug, clapping her on the back. "It's nice to see you, Havah. You're looking great. How was your trip over?" She paused, never having experienced the reserved commander so effusive.

"Uh…great. It's been a while since I've traveled anywhere. This is a beautiful city. I've never seen architecture like this."

"Yes, the Minbari strive for symmetry and confluence with the surrounding landscape. So their buildings are designed to either blend into the landscape or accent its natural features. I've been reading up a little, with some assistance." Sinclair tapped a book on his desk. It had flowing strokes of Minbari script on the cover.

_So he knows how to read Minbari already, _Havah thought_. I wonder if he was studying it on the station?_

"I imagine you'll get to learn quite a bit about it while you're studying with them." He hoisted a pile of paperwork. "I have the documents you need here. So if you would like, we can get these processed now." He indicated seats.

They sat and Rathenn explained to both her and Sinclair. "In the interest of efficiency, it was decided to brief both of you on Havah's assignment together. As you know, we have requested you as an…ethnographer. We would like you to gather cultural information and reproduce it in a…sensitive manner for the dispersal to other races that may have an interest in coming here, or in having extensive contact with the Minbari. We will provide you with an assistant to help you learn our languages more readily. They are said to be quite difficult for other races. We will also provide you with guides, when necessary, to different regions, as you request. However, the reason that I wished to brief both of you, is that in order to produce this material for non-Minbari visitation, we thought it prudent to also have you assigned as an intern to Ambassador Sinclair. For the duration of much of your study, he will need to keep the attaché we have assigned him, but it would benefit both of you to have Havah spend a few hours per week here, or as available, learning the tasks of a diplomatic office. We also thought that perhaps since the two of you knew each other, it would provide some comfort in the adjustment period. The Minbari do not often venture to live among off-worlders, so I can only imagine how difficult adjustment must be, to be so far away from other Humans. You are…pioneers here. Have either of you any questions so far?"

Sinclair leaned back in his chair. "No, that sounds like a good idea to me. And I'll be happy to work with Miss Lassee. In fact, there's a tour group of Humans coming in the day after tomorrow, if you'd like to come here for an hour or so in the afternoon."

Havah nodded. "Yes, thank you, that would be a good introduction. Would it be possible to begin the language lessons tomorrow?"

Rathenn smiled. "Absolutely. I will send someone over to you tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. Is this too early?"

"No, not at all. That would be fine."

"In addition, if you wish, a family I am familiar with has offered to host you as a guest for a period, to assist with orientation, and information gathering. They are well-known and will give you a foot-hold in the community here, with their sponsorship."

"That sounds like a great idea, as long as I'm not intruding."

"Not at all. It is our tradition to host seekers of knowledge. The only difference has been that in the past, all seekers have been Minbari from other regions. They are most eager to meet you and learn more about Humans. They also seek knowledge from you. So you see, this is benefiting them as well. This exchange promises to be quite exciting really. Shall I take you to meet them?"

"Yes, please." _An anthropologist's wet dream, _Havah thought_._

"Very well, I will take you tomorrow after your first language lesson."

"Thank you!"

Rathenn continued. "As far as administrative needs, please give me a list of necessary supplies as soon as possible, so that I can have them delivered to you. All that remains, aside from the documentation, is medical issues. We have a physician prepared to give you a preliminary examination." At Havah's suddenly apprehensive glance, he continued. "I understand that this may be unnerving, but since we have very little data on Human physiology, and we wish to be able to provide you with appropriate care should you require it. A couple of our physicians at least, should have preliminary information on which to base assessments. This is not a requirement, of course. We merely suggest it in the interest of good health practice."

Havah sighed. "You need a baseline, I understand." She didn't want to insult Rathenn by confirming with Sinclair in front of him, but…"Did you do the exam already?"

"Yes, they were just like Human doctors, I don't think the discipline varies much. But I know your reservations about doctors in general." He said noncommittally.

_If I go, they will know about my genetics. How could they miss it? But Rathenn's right. This is a strange planet with strange people and strange food, who knows what could happen? Maybe they won't notice. Not all doctors figure it out, and this is just routine, right? Even if they figure it out, they have no way of knowing who to look for. There've gotta be a billion Minbari on this planet alone. _ "Alright, I guess it is a good idea. When do I go?"

"At your earliest convenience."

"Well, I guess I'll get it over with as soon as he or she is available and get that out of the way."

Rathenn went to the com panel and contacted one of the female physicians, who agreed to see her after their meeting. He returned to the desk, smiling reassuringly at her. "She is a very good physician, and very respectful."

Havah smiled back wanly. They plodded through the pile of documentation with unfortunate speed. That was the first time Havah had ever wanted to prolong the drudgery of paperwork. When they left to go to the medical facility, Havah barely kept her feet from visibly dragging. A pear-shaped Minbari woman in light gray robes greeted them. They looked like a cross between laboratory and religious robes. _What an unnerving combination, _Havah thought miserably_._ She smiled warmly at Havah and gestured to a seat near a broad slanted cot. There were medical-looking devices on tables in the corners. There was a skylight providing ambient light, and the air was warm.

Rathenn introduced the woman. "This is Kral Situr. Kral means healer. " Kral Situr bowed deeply. "Kral, this is Havah Lassee." He lapsed into Minbari. The kral nodded, smiling reassuringly at Havah. Rathenn turned to Havah. "They will contact me after the examination so that you can be escorted back to your quarters." He bowed and left, shutting the door behind him for privacy.

Havah stared at her, fighting the impending anxiety attack that was constricting her lungs. Kral Situr put her hand on Havah's shoulder and said in slightly accented English. "It is alright. I have sent to Babylon 5 for your current medical file, so I only need to get some readings, and a few blood tests, unfortunately. I do wish to be thorough. But there is no need to be concerned. After my colleague saw your Ambassador Sinclair, we are finding that Humans and Minbari are not too different for our medicine. If you will, please lay down on the cot."

Havah obeyed, sliding with the angle, still gazing at her with round eyes.

Kral Situr glanced at Havah's face as she calibrated her scanner. "We have many strong and fearless warriors here, and every last one of them appears to get nervous at the mention of a healer. They pretend that they do not care, of course. But it is as obvious as children trying to hide their vegetables in the chorka plants. Why is that, Miss Havah Lassee? You are a great warrior, can you tell me why warriors who stare down death are so afraid of simple physicians?"

Havah had to crack a smirk, at the mention of their warriors' discomfiture. _At least it's not just me._ "No ma'am, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

The kral gave her a knowing smile and began scanning her head. "Ah, and as stubborn as ours, I see." She ran the scanner slowly down the length of Havah's body, looking puzzled.

Havah laughed, and then looked in fascination at the display on the wall. It was like looking into a mirror that could see underneath your skin. That was the one thing she found interesting about doctor visits. _Like a chimp staring in awe at his reflection_, she thought. She wondered what the kral would think of chimpanzees. The thought kept her mind off of the syringe about to take her blood. So far, the doctor had said nothing about her physiology. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe the lack of familiarity with non-Minbari physiology would be enough. She had nothing to compare Havah to.

"Miss Lassee, the scanner showed scar tissue in the upper lobe of the left lung, old burns, and some old fractures, some of the ribs. How long ago?"

"About eleven years." _The War._ Her lips made a grim line.

The doctor sensed Havah's change in mood, and understood the reason, and asked no further questions on the matter. After a few more tests for vision and reflexes, the doctor concluded the exam. "You may sit up, Miss Lassee. See, that was not so bad, was it?"

What is it about doctors that they all have to say that? Is it in some annoying universal handbook or something? She thanked the doctor for her patience and went to leave, but Kral Situr interjected.

"It is raining, Miss Lassee, and it will be a few moments before your escort arrives. Perhaps you would like to wait indoors? I promise that I will not bite." She grinned.

Havah deferred. "Oh, no, I know. I just like the rain."

She was squishing around in the grass verge when Rathenn pulled up in a glider, peering at her peculiar behavior. "Are you alright? It is very wet. Were you not able to wait inside?"

"I'm…I'm fine, I just like the rain. I haven't seen it for a while."

He smiled. "Ah, yes, I understand. I suppose that we see it so much here that while we appreciate it for the green growth, we stop noticing its beauty and pleasure, and instead become annoyed at the need to change our garments. Well…if you should desire it…" He pulled a rain blanket out from under his as she climbed in.

"Thank you, but my raincoat keeps me pretty dry." The city was beautiful in the rain. Grey and misty with claret drops ringing soft sighs as they hit crystal. The fresh air wafted through the windows of the flyer.

"Tomorrow, at 0900 hours then, I will send someone. We are very happy to have you here, Miss Lassee."

"Thank you, Satai Rathenn."

He left her at the door of her compound.

Kral Situr had learned from long years of practicing medicine that some questions could not be answered by asking the patient, especially one as closed as Havah Lassee. Asking too many probing questions would merely get her shut out of any confidence at all. Some of the reluctance came from the war. But the woman was hiding something else, something that tortured her. Situr knew this because she was mildly telepathic, as were all healers. She could not sense exact thoughts, only impressions. This talent aided in diagnosis, especially when the patient was unable to articulate what was wrong. So healers were interned to the Telepath's Guild for a period of two years to further develop their skill. Not for the last time, Situr wished her gift had been stronger, as she prepared more tests on her samples. After a very short while, she knew what troubled the woman. This woman was half-Minbari. There was no question of it. Aside from the rumors she had heard of Satai Delenn's transformation, this was unheard of. No wonder Miss Lassee had been nervous. Situr had not even known until recently that this was possible without gene splicing, and this was forbidden, at least between races, and with sentient beings. It was considered unnatural, something only blood-thirsty people like the Dilgar did. It was not considered within the realm of healing, and provided no known benefit. The only exception was the exploration of organic technology, and of course Delenn's change. But many had not accepted this, and were looking askance at Delenn for this reason. It was only Satai Delenn's charisma and the respect they already had for her that kept many from speaking against her, openly. Situr and her colleague, and a couple other scientists among the Warrior Caste had spent the last couple of years trying to gather information on other races' biologies. Her, for a broader perspective, and the Warrior caste scientists, who knew or wanted to ask why. But she was now considered one of the leading authorities in xenobiology, although her knowledge was still very superficial. It was theoretically possible, she supposed, to produce a half-breed. Of the races she had seen so far, all of them had the same number of chromosomes, and the same sex chromosomes, XX or XY. Odd, how they had all evolved that way, from such disparate beginnings. The Narn had predecessors that were amphibious, the Drazi, reptilian, and yet they all seemed to end up with genetics that while not compatible, seemed similar in many ways nonetheless, out of the billions and billions of possible combinations of DNA. Situr isolated a chromosome from one of Havah's cells and spent the next few hours mapping it, gene by gene. And there it was. She had no bone because she was lacking the gene for bone patterning. Not that the gene for a head bone wasn't there at all, but it couldn't be fully expressed without the pattern from the mother. That gene was linked to the X chromosome, and since Havah's mother had not possessed it, as a Human, neither did Havah.

That meant that her Minbari DNA could only have come from a male. Her blood type was R-negative, common among the Warrior Caste, less so among the Religious Caste, and almost nonexistent among the Worker Caste. Interesting. Situr needed a Human perspective. On a secure link, she managed with some difficulty to locate Dr. Stephen Franklin. He had seen Havah before, and she needed the file, since it had not arrived yet.

The dark Human smiled amiably at her. "Hello Kral Situr, can I help you? I'll have that file for you soon, we just came down from a surge in patients. Stomach virus."

"Thank you Dr. Franklin, actually I had some questions. I know that you saw Delenn. And I know that you saw Havah Lassee. And I also know that Humans have done some research, or at least have some knowledge of gene splicing and cloning and such things. I mean no disrespect, but since this is not a part of our study or culture, I am lacking in some theory as to how to explain what I am seeing here, and I was hoping that you could help me. How would it be possible for two incompatible full-bloods to produce viable offspring?"

"I've been asking myself that. We haven't exactly figured any of that out yet. One possibility would be a virus."

"A virus? How?"

"Well, like a retro-virus. In the past, we combated an illness called AIDS. It was caused by a retrovirus that destroyed immune cells. And after years of study we found that it functioned by inserting itself into the DNA of the cell and producing it's own RNA or getting the cell to produce the viral RNA. Well, see, using this process, it can alter the functioning of the cell. So theoretically, you could get a retrovirus like that, which alters reproductive cells instead of immune cells, and leaves them merely restructured instead of destroying them, and temporarily makes two cells previously incompatible, artificially restructured. There are a lot of problems with that theory though. Direct manipulation and construction of the DNA mechanically might be another way, with nanotechnology. But again, we don't know of anyone with this technology that has been able to make it work on this level. With Ambassador Delenn, that was done with the use of altered stem cells. To be honest, I've never seen anything like it before. If you have any insight into that, I would love to get that information."

"No, we do not…unfortunately. Can you send me any information you have on these theories?"

"Of course. I'll look them up and send them tonight. And I'll send my preliminary report on Delenn's alteration. Is that all? How is Havah, is she alright? Have you seen Ambassador Sinclair? We haven't heard from him."

"Yes, she is well, and the Ambassador is adjusting well also. Can such a virus exist naturally? Or is such a thing constructed as well?"

"We don't know. No one has ever encountered such a virus in the wild. So far, it is purely theoretical."

"I see. Thank you very much for your help. I apologize for the brevity of the call, but I must attend to a couple of things."

"I understand. Nice talking to you, Doctor. I'll send the files as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Dr. Franklin."

She contacted Satai Rathenn. He showed up a half an hour later, and viewed the results of the genetic analysis, while she explained the implications to him.

"So it is unlikely that this could have happened by chance?"

"That is correct. Although it is unlikely to have been with the consent of this male. Most Minbari would not consent to such a union, and the most likely scenario that I can envision, is that this was conducted by someone with genetic engineering capabilities that we have never seen. Nor have the Humans. I consulted with Dr. Franklin of Babylon 5. He is well-known for xenobiology on his world. Of course, this is all speculation. I have no other evidence, since we cannot even determine how this could have occurred to begin with."

"What about Delenn?"

"He had little insight on her transformation, although he is sending what he has discovered. It would appear that the Vorlon is the only one who does."

"So, Havah's father is likely to be Warrior Caste, possibly religious, but this is less likely, not just because of the blood-type, but because until recently, we did not travel off-world as often? Unless you think there is a possibility that this could have happened here."

"I do not see how."

"I will notify one of the Warrior Caste members of the Council and he can begin conducting a search of old military records, to look for any reports of capture and release or escape, encounter with unknown races, unexplained absences. When was Havah born?"

The kral showed him the birthdate on her file.

"It is a start. In the meantime, say nothing of this. Since we do not know his identity, or anything about the circumstances, this is best kept quiet for now. Until we know more, this discovery may reflect poorly on Havah, if people are to misinterpret the situation, and there is no point in risking shame to anyone."

"I understand, Satai Rathenn."

_Secrets are the trade of the Grey Council_, he thought ruefully.

The next day, a young man came at 0900 hours, as Rathenn had instructed him. He looked to be in his late teens, and very serious about the task he had been assigned. He bowed graciously when Havah gestured him in. She was just as anxious as he to get started. They began with the primary Religious Caste dialect of the north west, the one spoken most in Yedor, called Dushali. Rathenn was right. It was extremely sticky to learn. It was all nuance. The same word could mean something completely different depending on the time of day, the station and caste of the person spoken to, the words before and after it. There appeared to be so many grammatical rules as to have no pattern at all, everything according to circumstance. But it made for an extremely versatile language, capable of expressing the most minute thought or capturing the slightest details. After an hour and a half, her brain was ready to leak out of her ears. And she had thought that calculus had been complicated! Rathenn appeared at the door, ready to take her to meet her new hosts. Her tutor mercifully bowed and left. And Rathenn whisked her away in the flier. She squinted into the sunlight glinting from the crystal towers. They parked in front of a small flat with a little arbor shading the yard. A slender woman with a gracefully ribbed headbone came out of the door and met Rathenn with a familiar greeting, placing her hand to his chest. He returned the greeting, and then introduced Havah. "Katani, this is Havah Lassee, the Human we spoke of." He turned to Havah. "We spoke of your assignment here, and the need for it."

Before Rathenn could introduce the woman, she introduced herself. "I am Katani, of the family of Zhorat and we are thrilled to have you join us! Rathenn is understating the matter. We have been far too sheltered here, from 'outside influence.' I'm bored, by the gods! And I want to know more about the universe! In Valen's name, we're not children who have to be protected from naughty words!" She cuffed Rathenn on the arm, "As this statesman might have you believe!"

Rathenn grinned. It was obvious that they were old friends. But even had they not been, Havah doubted that station would have stopped this woman from speaking as she did. Havah was instantly fond of her.

A second later, her and Rathenn were ushered inside. "Please come in. I have kocha ready."

Rathenn clarified the word. "The midday meal."

"Ah yes, I apologize. I know English quite well, but forgive me if I slip. This is my husband, Sorail." An equally slender man looked up from a side table where he was perusing a scroll. "Sorail, take your nose out of that scroll. It won't crawl away. You can fix it later! Our guest is here, and…lunch…is served!" She turned to Havah. "You will have to forgive him, as well. He is…I heard a lovely Human word to describe it…a workaholic! He transcribes proceedings, at the Temple, among other things, and he's been fussing over this one all morning!"

Sorail looked properly rebuked as he slid scroll and data crystal into a drawer and bowed to Havah, smiling. A toddler hovered near the edge of the door. Katani swooped over and picked the child up and brought her over. "This is Nohri. Nohri, say hello." The little girl buried her face in her mother's neck. "Oh, you have never been shy before, you are not fooling me!" She kissed the girl on the forehead. "We regret that you will not meet our son at this time. He is away training in the Temple. It was not possible to take him away from studies. Please sit, everyone, that is what the chairs are for! You do not need to stand like stiff planks!"

Havah sat obediently as Katani helped little Nohri into her seat, and then lit candles placed around the table. Havah watched Rathenn for the proper behavior. But Katani explained. "It is customary, especially with an honored guest, to meditate before beginning the meal. Sometimes we also meditate before each bite, but since it is really your first day among the Minbari, I did not wish to frighten you away just yet!" She smiled at Havah. "Especially after surviving your first Minbari language lesson!…I will of course expect you to be able to name all of the foods and items in the room by the end of the meal…" At Havah's shocked face, she gave Havah another teasing grin, and began silently meditating. Havah bowed her head and tried to quiet her racing mind. _Wow_. After the meditation, they began to eat. For all her joking, Katani was quite genteel, taking small neat bites. The food was simple but delicious, some kind of soft cheese in a pastry-like dough, and slivers of sweet pungent fruit.

Sorail asked politely. "Miss Lassee, how was your flight in yesterday? Uneventful, I hope?"

Havah grinned uncomfortably, remembering her encounter with the soldiers, but not wanting to be rude.

Rathenn spoke up for her. "It appears that a couple of the security guards saw her as a threat and restrained her. Again, I apologize for that, Miss Lassee."

Sorail shook his head, but said nothing further. Katani clucked. "I understand the need for increased security with off-worlders coming now, but honestly, those men would think that Nohri was a threat!"

Speaking of Nohri, Katani glanced over at her daughter, to find her staring at Havah with her tiny finger up her nose. "Nohri! Stop that immediately! What have you been told! Not only is it unclean, but it is disrespectful! Stop it!" Katani looked at Havah with chagrin and pulled the baby's hand down, wiping her finger with antimicrobial gel. "I apologize Miss Lassee—"

Havah burst out laughing. "No, it's just fine. That's what kids do, all over the galaxy, it seems! No, everything is just wonderful. Especially the food and company!" Boy, was it nice to see that even Minbari kids weren't perfectly well-behaved little replicas of their parents! And the little girl was just ridiculously cute. _I guess that's what keeps parents from choking them when they have temper-tantrums_, Havah thought amusingly, as Nohri pouted, and looked like she was fixing to give her parents a good episode. But her parents ignored it, and the storm clouds on her face passed away. After a few minutes she was happily giggling and sneaking food to the small furry animal that had crept in under the table. Sorail noticed the new inhabitant and picked it up and deposited it outside the door. The pout came back, and she said something in Minbari, but Sorail said. "Gokhs belong outdoors." Havah looked puzzled so Sorail explained. "Gokhs are semi-wild animals. They are very mischievious. But children love them, so often they are found lurking around homes. Some families keep them. Often they come and go. This one has been hanging around the house for five years. Last winter it used the arbor to sharpen its claws, and a few weeks ago it tried to climb the hangings and pulled them all down on its head. But Nohri has become very attached to it. We tell her that she can play with it outside, but it keeps coming in because it knows she will feed it."

"Oh, sort of like a cat or dog."

"These are Earth animals?"

"Yeah, also very mischievious, and as soon as you feed them they'll always be around."

"Yes, I believe that I have read a little about them. I have been trying to learn more about Earth."

Following the meal, Havah's accommodations were discussed. Since she had elected to take Katani and Sorail up on their offer to live there for a while, her belongings would be brought to their home, and the study supplies delivered there. Rathenn said goodbye and left to attend to business. Katani showed her around the rest of the house and to the quest room, which was similar to that of Havah's flat, but smaller. The back of the house opened out onto a small communal courtyard shaded by another arbor, with a burbling fountain that a few children were playing around, chasing the gokh out of the water. Sorail returned to his scroll, despite the glare of his wife, and Katani left Nohri under Sorail's eye, and took Havah into the city.

The city was huge. It seemed comparable in population to New York, and like New Yorkers or the inhabitants of any large capital city, the people Havah saw seemed friendly but preoccupied. Also like New York, the city seemed to be built up and down rather than out. But here the similarity ended. Crystal and agate spires towered above her, and the businesses and domiciles delved deep into the ground. There had been a natural network of caves that the Minbari had restructured and strengthened. The towers had been built of the rock deposits of the surrounding hillside, like a whittler carving a piece of wood into the shape trapped inside. This peak had a city inside. Much of the power came from geothermal energy tapped from a rill beneath the city. And natural fountains bubbled up from heated springs in the heart of the mountain. It was beautiful, and structurally ingenious. Since the city was so compact, it was possible, if one wished, to walk everywhere, and many people did. There was a magnetic tram that accessed almost every location for those with difficulty walking, and it ran constantly, automatically timed. Most flyers were used by visitors or commuters, unless there was inclement weather. On sunny temperate days, the streets were packed with pedestrians. The flyers appeared similar to those on Earth, powered by some form of hydrogen fuel cell. Havah's jaw hung open as she gazed. Katani took her wrist and led her down a main avenue. They passed a food court area. The smell from one of the gazebos was overwhelming. As they passed, Havah could see some sort of bun coming out of the large brick oven. Havah's stomach growled. How could she be hungry again? They had eaten recently. _Maybe Minbari food is like Chinese food, you stuff your face but are hungry again in a couple hours_, Havah thought.

Katani noticed Havah's curiosity and before Havah could stop her, had gone and bought a couple of the buns, one filled with a bland cream for Havah, and a plain one for herself. Havah began to tell her that she didn't have to go to the trouble, but she waved Havah's protest away. "I have not had one in a while. These are called pra'do. They are traditional cakes. We eat them with sweet cream, plain, sometimes they are stuffed with meat or vegetables. They are very heavy and store very well for travel, so merchants love them. But if we eat too many of them we get very large." They approached a gorgeous crystal structure, the Temple. Katani led her inside. There were meditation rooms everywhere, and other rooms that looked like libraries with books and scrolls stored in long thin waterproof shafts. Other rooms looked like meeting rooms. The main hallways were vaulted with the smaller rooms having stepped ceilings. There was no main shrine indoors. _Interesting_. Katani explained why. "The entire city should be able to see the rituals, if they wish, and not everyone can fit into the Temple. Instead there are many areas dedicated to the gods, where people can leave individual offerings. But the communal rituals must happen outside in front, so that the entire city can witness them. That is why the platform faces the avenue."

Havah looked at it in awe. It was made of faceted crystal, but very simple.

"At the right time of day, when the rituals are performed, the sun casts light on the people performing the rituals, and back up to the Universe. People can place their candles at intervals around the edges of the platform. This is done, often, by the persons for whom the ritual is being performed, such as a wedding or betrothal. At other general holidays, we all put our candles there, at least as many as will fit without intruding into the area designated to receive the offerings."

"What do you offer?"

"Fruits and vegetables, oils."

"So…Satai Delenn explained a little to me about your religion…you have gods…"

"Yes, there is the Universe. We are all part of this Universe, and the One that created it. It is us. But we have gods, in the sense that you mean it, because everything in the Universe has a specific purpose, see? They are their functions."

They walked to a park nearby and sat near a stream under a willow-like tree. Havah tried to clarify. "We have beings called angels, in my religion. They sort of have names that we call them, but the names are really offices, or job functions. So 'Ha-Shatan' means 'the adversary', or 'Uri-el' means 'Fire of God'. The angel Uriel guards places with a sword made of fire, sort of enforces God's law, or gives warnings, Ha-Shatan tests humanity in the eyes of God. You mean they have names like that, that describe what they each do?"

"Yes. Although it is not as fixed as that. Since they are also spirit and energy, as are we, they are equally capable of transmutation and change. They can do one function one day, or something else another, so that the energy is called by the function it performs, as it performs, until it changes. Do you understand?"

"Sort of."

"Suppose that a man is a warrior, but decides that his soul is no longer in war, and he decides to become a priest. Then we call him a priest."

"Some people would argue that you can never leave what you were or what you did behind you, that you are always what you were. I mean…not to be impolite, but doesn't your caste system argue against such a principle of change?"

"Yes, it does. And it is true, some people would say that…but I think they are wrong. If we do not expect our gods to stay the same stagnant energy forever, why should we expect that of ourselves. But then they would argue that we do change when we pass beyond the veil and our next life brings us any change we desire. They say that the gods change before us because they do not see the darkness separating their lives into segments, as we do. But I do not see why we have to wait for the darkness. I think that the people that say this have chosen continuity within one lifetime, and are afraid of disruption. I also think that you can keep who or what you are with you, and become something else, in addition. If you know how to sing, do you have to stop singing because someone teaches you how to write?"

Havah smiled at Katani. _So not all Minbari agree with the caste system._ "Good point. Maybe you're right. That is certainly what our culture has opted for with the creation of our type of democracy. It is a concept we called 'self-determination', it goes along with 'free enterprise', and a few other concepts. You might be interested to read about the history of the old America."

"You can teach me! Come, it is time to head back." Havah was deep in thought on the trip back. They stopped at an open air market and picked up vegetables. Katani and Sorail could afford to have much food delivered, but Katani often liked to pick things out for herself. After returning, Havah helped Katani prepare dinner, with Nohri helping to shell little nuts. Dinner was pleasant. Nohri appeared to have gotten over some of her shyness, because she was talking constantly in Minbari. Havah didn't know if she understood or knew how to speak English. Even though Havah did not yet understand much Minbari, one sequence between her and Sorail sounded suspiciously like a barrage of three-year old 'Why's.

That night, hoping it wouldn't offend her generous hosts, she unrolled her sleeping bag and slept beside the bed, listening to the tinkling of the fountains. Maybe the sight of little Nohri had triggered something in her mind, because the dream that night was full of Kuraal.

_A crash issued from her husband's meditation room, and she rushed in to find little Kuraal standing wide-eyed and shaky, swimming in her father's armored coat, near a broken pitcher of water with her father's shurok in her hands. Her breath was coming in startled heaves. Turanni rushed over and snatched the heavy dagger from the child's hand, drawing a relieved breath that nothing worse had happened, and made an angry mental note to tell her husband to keep it where Kuraal couldn't find it. Their daughter had wandered into the meditation room, found the armor and in doing so, found a new toy. "No Kuraal! That is very dangerous, little one. You must be grown to wield it! Do not be in such a hurry!" Trembling herself, she fetched a vacuum hose and began cleaning up the mess. After the shards were gone, she handed Kuraal a cloth and helped her clean up the water. "Here, take off your father's coat, it's getting wet." As if on cue, Trelann came in, to the sight of Kuraal dragging the length of his coat through an enormous puddle, towel dangling forgotten, while her mother tried to get her untangled. He chuckled, "What's this? Have the two of you decided that my uniform needs washing? There are easier ways." This got him a baleful glare from Turanni, who threw the wet towel at him. It whudded against his tunic, leaving a damp impression. _

"_Yes, genius, that is exactly what we were doing! Your daughter has discovered your shurok and decided that our household dishware would be a good first practice target! And how do you suppose she came by the weapon, my husband? Because you left it in your coat, where she could get her curious three-summers old hands on it, that's how!" _

_A deep frown passed his brow, but then instead of looking properly abashed as he should have, he whooshed Kuraal up into the air and caught her, wringing a cackle from her. "Eager to begin already?" He gazed at Turanni, beaming with pride. _

_She just stood with her hands on her hips, glowering. "And if she had cut off her lovely nose, Proud Warrior? What then?" His grin dropped into the humbled look she was hoping for. _

_Already, Kuraal resembled him. The girl murmured happily to herself. The two of them made such a picture that Turanni's sternness melted and she embraced both of them, draping the wet towel over his head. He whipped it around and snapped it at her backside, setting Kuraal down to run around. Then his face darkened. _

"_What's wrong, husband?" She asked, worried at the change._

"_We are home for a couple days only, to rebuild the ship. I had hoped that coming here would replenish my spirit. But I am more depressed than before. We are losing this War. You saw those ships, the vast blackness. They melt into space and then reappear. They have already nearly destroyed many outer bases, and we are too divided to stand against them for much longer. I am tired of losing friends. And I am afraid of losing you too."_

_She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his deep brown eyes, knowing how hard it was for him to say such a thing. What was there to say to that though? So many fleet ships had been destroyed, so many soldiers had died, and many had returned home with missing parts, burned, half-dead. Some of those that died had been fortunate. And the war was getting worse. He was right. They were losing. The Shadows were slicing the Minbari Federation away, chunk by chunk. She could not promise him that she would survive this, that any of them would. She kissed him long and deep. "I love you," was all she could say. He held her tightly._

The image faded and was replaced by the vision of Kuraal in the cave, surrounded by Shadows, full of dread at what Turanni knew was inevitable. Havah woke, choking on tears, whispering the little girl's name. She covered her face with the blanket and sobbed, trying to expel the sorrow in every breath, to loosen the knot in her chest. She felt a little tug on her sleeve, and peered to the side, trying to wipe her face. It was Nohri. Wordless, the little girl slid into the sleeping bag beside Havah, wrapping her short arms around Havah's middle, laying her cheek against her. It was what Nohri's parents did when Nohri was sad or frightened, and Miss Havah was both. "Hey," Havah said, fighting to normalize her trembling voice and sound adult, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in bed?" She looked down at the toddler's new little headbone. Nohri turned her head up, blinking at Havah with big hazel eyes, and just hugged her harder. Havah hugged her back. She told Nohri to go to sleep. When Havah laid back down, the girl nestled into her side, with her arm flung over Havah's waist. She held Nohri until they both fell asleep.

Katani slept the sleep of hunters, warriors, and mothers: lightly. She awoke to a faint sound and rose. The sound sharpened as she neared Havah's room. The woman was speaking Minbari, in mournful tones. Odd, she spoke it so well. _In Valen's name…how can she know that dialect? It is no longer spoken._ _I think there is something that Rathenn has not told me of this woman._ Katani listened intently to Havah's dirge. Her child was lost. She whispered the child's name. Katani froze. Had she heard that name correctly? She could hear Havah crying. Katani was torn. Ever the mother, she very much wanted to go to Havah and talk to her, say something that would make her feel better. But this woman had been a soldier. She knew Havah's history, everyone did. Soldiers were very proud, and she did not wish to do anything to make Havah feel uncomfortable or ashamed. That would only make her feel worse. And also, whatever Havah knew of the Minbari, Havah was Human. Katani knew so little about them still. What if it was rude to intrude upon such a moment? She could see the woman's shape now, and also saw that Nohri was standing at the edge of Havah's blanket, looking at her. That child! Nohri crawled into bed with the grieving woman, and Katani was about to stop Nohri and take her back to her own bed, explaining why it was impolite to intrude like that, when Sorail's voice came from behind her. "Let them be." He had risen to see why Katani had gotten out of bed. He looked at Nohri and Havah. "It's alright. Let the child be. There's no harm in it." They looked at the two for a few moments and then returned to bed.

21


	10. Chapter 10

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 10: The Fight

In the morning, Katani said nothing of what she had seen or heard to Havah, just smiled kindly at her and patted her arm as Havah sat down to the morning meal. Havah's eyes felt sandy and she blinked at the light as she smiled back at Katani. Hopefully they hadn't heard her tossing and turning. Her little midnight friend had risen, as children do, at the bare crack of dawn to begin a long day of playing. And it was with effort that Katani got Nohri to sit still in her chair and eat. The meal consisted of some of those buns Havah had seen the day before, drizzled with sweet syrup, and some form of custard made of egg. She knew the eggs had to be from birds she had never seen, but she was still overwhelmed by the desire to pour tabasco all over them. Except there was no tabasco. So far, she had not seen anything resembling vinegar products. This made sense, she supposed, for people who could not consume most fermentables. They would not have had an opportunity to discover vinegar.

Katani's curiosity got the better of her. "I was just wondering why Humans like to sleep horizontally?"

Havah's face colored slightly at the realization that Katani had seen her. "I didn't mean to insult—"

"Oh, no, it is not an insult. No, please. I was just wondering because I had heard this before. Also, if there is some way to make you more comfortable…the floor is very cold at night. You could get sick!"

Havah grinned at the maternal comment. "Oh, I'm ok. My sleeping bag is designed for near arctic temperatures, I actually get hot in it sometimes. I guess I never thought about the way we sleep, it just seems natural to us."

"You do not choke? The Minbari believe it is easier for your spirit to leave the body if one lies flat, as we do in death. Occasionally people have choked sleeping this way!"

"Oh, well, I see what you mean, but we've found that when Humans choke lying down, it is often because they have a condition called sleep apnea. That means that they stop breathing when they fall asleep. I don't actually know if it gets worse when they lie down, or if laying at an angle would solve the problem. Sometimes when people have lung infections they'll sleep sitting up or reclined at an angle. Hmm. I never thought about that before."

"Perhaps one night when I am feeling brave, I will try sleeping like a Human."

Sorail gave her a look that said, 'Not with our bed, you insane woman!' Then he glanced apologetically at Havah.

His wife grinned and ignored him. "I understand that you have another Minbari lesson this morning, and a meeting with the Ambassador this afternoon. I must return to work today, and take Nohri to her tutors, so I will not be here. But Sorail will be here transcribing, if you should need anything." She showed Havah again where the food pantry was and told her to help herself to anything she wanted.

Havah helped her clean up and get Nohri ready. And then Katani left, with Nohri bundled into a sling across her back, knit bag swinging at her side, just as Havah's tutor was coming to the yard. The lesson was as confusing as the previous day, despite her tutor's assessment that Havah was picking up the language surprisingly fast. She glanced towards Sorail in the next room, wondered if he could hear her butchery of his language, wondered if he was even paying attention. Probably not. He reminded her of her dad a little, her Human dad. When she was a kid she had once heard her mom say that she had to light his hair on fire to get him to look up from his papers. Havah idly wondered what Katani did to Sorail to get him to look up from his scrolls.

When the lesson finished it was close on midday. Havah still felt a little timid about just going into their pantry, and wanted to explore the magnificent city some more before her meeting with Sinclair. She waved goodbye to Sorail, not wanting to distract him too much from his work, and headed into central Yedor, bringing a book bag with her in case she didn't return here before the meeting. It was sunny and there were crowds of people walking and chatting, and weaving their paths through one another to work or school or worship. She picked her way among streets trying to remember where the food court with the buns had been. There had been other interesting eateries there too. And now was as good a time as any to find out whether she could successfully order food and pay for it without a lot of sign language. But none of the streets she was on now looked like the streets she had been on yesterday, or at least she couldn't tell. She'd been too awestruck to really notice landmarks. She knew enough Minbari to ask directions but not enough to understand what they said. Most adult Minbari here, especially the businesspeople probably knew English, but she didn't know the names of any of the places she was looking for. She was garnering some interested looks, being the only visible Human on the street. And someone stopped and asked, "Are you lost?" in English. "It was a guess." The young man said, grinning at her.

She smiled back. "Hopelessly."

"There is always hope! What are you looking for?"

"A food court." Havah was no longer going to be picky.

"If you go straight ahead and make that right two corners down, you will pass a very good place to eat on the right. They have excellent hor'chi. I would show you myself, but I am late. I am sorry."

"Oh, no problem. Thanks!"

She found the place. There was a wide area outside the bungalow with outdoor tables. It must be good because it was crowded. She went inside and edged into the line to order. When she got to the counter, after rehearsing what she wanted to say, it all vanished from her brain and she just stood for a moment blank-faced and agonizing, trying to get the right words out. She stuttered and blushed as the man behind the counter simply waited patiently for her to give him her order. Surprisingly, all the people in line behind her, and there were a lot, just waited, many of them continuing their conversations. No one got impatient or tried to rush her or prompt her. But it had gotten quiet and she could feel people watching and listening to her, despite attempts to pretend otherwise. A young girl nearby erupted into giggles when Havah finished asking if she could have a hor'chi, please, making Havah wonder what she had actually said.

The girl's mother rebuffed her. "Hush, that's very rude!" The woman smiled encouragingly. Apparently, whatever it was that Havah had actually said, the man got enough of it to give her the food she requested. Although she had no idea what hor'chi was, or what it looked like. She was so embarrassed by this time that her hands were shaking. Luckily, she didn't have to understand how much it cost, she could just hand him her credit chit, which she fumbled and dropped. She picked it up and gave it to him. And when he gave it back to her, she turned and hustled towards the door, just wanting to be out of this claustrophobic room with all of these polite aliens. A man in line tapped her shoulder, as the man from the counter called after her, to tell her that she had left her food still on the counter. Would this day never end! She thanked them both and sheepishly edged back to get her meal and slunk outside. Someone called her name. It was Birin.

"Hello! It is nice to see you out here! Would you like to sit with me?"

"Yeah, I was offered to stay with a family that Satai Rathenn knows, so that I could learn the culture quickly, and teach them about Humans."

"Oooh. You are very lucky. It sounds very fun. I am jealous now!" She grinned. "How have you liked it so far? Come." She began leading Havah to where she was sitting in a small park off of the street.

"It's been great. The family has the most adorable little girl. Her name is Nohri—"

A man, dressed in black loose-fitting clothing stepped out in front the women. He snarled at Havah, "You have no place here, butcher! You should leave."

Havah felt heat rise in her throat, and noticed two more men behind her. She said nothing to the man. _They're looking for a reaction, coke for their fire._ She turned to Birin, who had now noticed all the men and was glaring at the one in front of her. "Birin, it's ok, I'm not going to get pushed into a fight and I don't care what they say. You should go. I'll catch up with you later. Maybe I'll stop by tonight if you're home." Even as the words came out, she could see that it was doing nothing to diffuse the situation. Birin didn't move, as she said, "You have as much right to be here as they do! They are not honorable warriors. They are bullies!"

"And you are a traitor, who would rather side with this animal than with your own kind!" He sneered at Birin.

"The War is over and you will just have to grow up and accept the Council's decision to let Humans come here, and any others they see fit! It is for them to say, not you. You are no one!" She shot back, hotly.

This enraged him and he came closer, putting his face close to hers, as the two behind came up and went to grab Havah. "Not this Human, who dressed up as one of us, and murdered in our clothing! She will never have any place here, and if you support her, neither do you!" He reached for Havah, and as he did, Birin kicked him full in the groin. He doubled over for a moment, but recovered quickly enough to grab Birin around the neck in a wrestler hold and drew a dagger close to her throat. She struggled and yelled, "You are the traitor if you harm your own kind!"

"I have not harmed you…yet. This does not concern you. Don't!" He said, yanking her hard, knife closer. "Do not force this."

Havah sensed the men behind her move in, and her head cocked as the man on the left came in with a whistling fist towards her head, trying to blind-side her. She pivoted around the blow, deflected it to the side, and sunk her weight into a full crushing Hsing-I punch to his ribs. In case that didn't work, she planted a palm strike to the back of his over-extended elbow, breaking it. She followed through, bracing her arm across his neck, and swept his legs out from under him. He fell, clutching his side and gasping, his broken arm limp. The second one had made it to a position in front of her and came in with a right straight punch to her head. She deflected his arm up and drove in with a left palm strike to the solar plexus. He brushed it aside as if it were no more troublesome than a flying insect and stepped in with an elbow, and then back-fist to the face. She drew back to avoid the elbow and nearly got caught as she dropped below the fist into a low crouch, sending a claw hand to his crotch from one of her favorite forms, White Monkey Steals the Peach. His eyes widened before her fingers could grab the peach, and he blocked her hand to the outside, aiming a roundhouse kick to her exposed temple. She braced both feet and arms forward in a horse stance and hard-blocked the kick with both forearms, putting all her weight behind it. Her balance held and she thrust both fists sideways, one into his solar plexus, and one into the groin she had been sorely aiming for. He whumphed and stepped back, and as he readjusted his balance, she dropped fully to the ground and swung into an Iron Broom sweep, catching both of his legs. His feet came up and he landed on his back. He started to rise again, but the momentum of her sweep carried her all the way around and she rose to one knee and threw a knife hand, like a snake's tongue, at his trachea. Just as the hand started snapping out, a powerful voice yelled "STOP AT ONCE!"

At the sound of the voice, Havah and the man in front of her both froze. Birin took the opportunity, her captor's attention divided, to pull her arm out and elbow him in the stomach and bite his wrist. He yelped, as the voice came angrier this time. "WHAT IN VALEN'S NAME IS GOING ON?"

They all looked up to see that a sizable crowd had gathered, and through it, a tall man wearing a knee-length gray coat with the symbol of a stylized hand on the breast hurried up, with two others dressed similarly behind him. The Fala 'Shok, peace officers. "To your feet! All of you who are able!"

One came and pulled Havah and the Minbari she had been about to strike, to their feet, while another herded Birin and her attacker toward Havah, to corral all of the offenders in the same place. The third officer kneeled next to the Minbari who had first attacked Havah. He was still clutching his side, gasping.

"He needs a medic." The officer spoke into a small communicator and summoned a medical team to the area. The officer who first arrived, separated Havah and Birin from the two men, and began walking them in front, while the other officer walked behind the two men. "Come. Now."

Havah watched Birin and glanced back at the men. Birin said nothing but looked straight ahead, and the men leered at her sullenly.

"Eyes ahead." The officer said behind Havah. She looked back around as they left the street, past the crowd of watching, muttering people. The third officer remained on the scene until the injured man was attended to, and then to canvas the witnesses. One of the officers linked in with their station to let them know they were bringing in the sources of the disturbance.

_Third day here and I get arrested. Good diplomacy._ There were no hand-cuffs but the intent was clear. She started, "Birin, I'm really sorry! I—"

"Silence." The officer behind her said conclusively.

Havah swallowed hard. Not only had she gotten in a fight, disrupted their city, but she had gotten her new friend in trouble too, probably shamed the family who had opened their home to her, seriously damaged or even killed a Minbari citizen, and on top of it all she was going to miss her first appointment with Ambassador Sinclair. _I'll be lucky if they deport me. Certainly no one will want anything to do with me._ She had worked herself into quite an internal tizzy by the time they reached the station.

They were all split up into separate rooms. Fairly bare rooms even for the Minbari. The only things in them were a table and two chairs. Questioning rooms. The officer that had been in charge of Havah remained in the room with her, while Birin was taken into another room by another officer who was already at the station. The same procedure was affected with the two attackers. Havah sat in the chair and the officer sat in the other chair. He did not introduce himself. He merely said. "Tell me what happened." His face was unreadable. He set a recording device on the table in front of her.

She slumped in the chair, despondent. "It was my fault. The whole thing." She fought to keep her voice even.

"That does not tell me what happened."

She stared at the floor, and said nothing. She was too ashamed to defend herself. So she just sat, looking at the floor. Instead of prompting her further for an answer, the officer just sat, looking at her and waiting. She got the impression that he could wait, like a cat anticipating a mouse, until the sun turned to ash, staring at her. After a long spell of minutes, another officer linked in, and the man in front of her answered in Minbari, and resumed staring at her.

Finally Havah looked at him and tried to talk, if only because she now knew that either they would deport or imprison her, or they would let her go. But in any case, this man would sit here forever until she gave him an answer one way or another. In either outcome, at least she could stop wasting his time. She started with her truncated conversation with Birin, and ended with the moment when he had rushed up. His face was still impassive. He got up and left the room, and Havah sat.

After another long spell of minutes, the door opened and the officer called to her. "Miss Lassee. Please come with me."

Havah followed him to a central area where Birin was waiting.

"You are free to go, Miss Lassee. We apologize for any confusion you might have. The Minbari who attacked you have been detained and will receive punishment for their actions. It was a necessary procedure to separate all of you for questioning until we could compare all of the stories and determine what really happened from all of the different points of view. Do you understand?"

Havah nodded. "We have police on my world."

"Yes, we are peace officers. But I do not know if you would call us police in the sense that you mean. Well, there is not as much need for the 'policing' on our world as there is for simple assistance and mediation."

Havah nodded again. Birin piped in. "Here, Minbari are expected to seek justice, even if they have done something wrong, so only a few patrols are needed. Each patrolling unit has a member from each caste, so that the balance of power in any mediation is not upset."

"We volunteer four hours every other week, and then return to our other calling."

"You mean you don't get paid to do this, this is a volunteer department?"

He looked puzzled.

"It is the duty of all who live here to help the city and our people, in whatever way we can. This is our way." The officer who spoke now was the one who had stayed at the scene. He was a formidable man with spiky points on his head-bone. Havah was going to guess by the shape of his bone and by his eyes, that he was the Warrior Caste member of the patrol that had picked her up.

"Wow. Well, I guess I've spent enough of your time." Havah started toward the door, but the one who had questioned her spoke again.

"You did not appear to be hurt, but if you have any small injuries, you should be seen by a physician. And if the two of you wish to return to the kochara, your lunch will be provided."

Havah glanced at Birin quizzically. She shook her head, laughed and translated. "It is only a word meaning 'place that provides lunch'. 'Kocha' mid-day meal, 'kochara' the place that serves it."

"Thank you. But I have to go to a meeting, unless I've missed it. I'm really sorry for the trouble I caused."

"It was not your fault, Miss Lassee. You tried to avoid the altercation. Do not forget your bag and your books. They were left at the kochara." The officer held her bag out by the strap. She took it gratefully and left. Birin bounded up to her. "Wait. I will walk you to your meeting."

"You don't have to do that. I got you in trouble with the police."

"I told you already, I do not think that means the same thing here that it does on your home-world, Havah Lassee. I am not in trouble at all. Those warriors were wrong to attack you. They were the ones trying to start a fight, and they were just as ready to attack me, and I am Minbari. You defended yourself as necessary. If they got hurt in the process, then it was because of their folly, and they will learn from their mistake!"

"I don't know whether that is wonderfully wise, or woefully naïve, but sometimes I wish Earth law could look at things that way."

"Is it so bad there?"

Havah remembered that she was not just bellyaching with another Earther. "Oh, no, of course not! The system, as it was constructed, really strives for justice. There are just kinks, that's all. Our lawyers call them loop-holes. And sometimes people aren't always impartial. But that's true anywhere, in any system, I suppose."

"Lawyers?"

"Yeah, people who interpret and defend the law, and sometimes create new laws, or change old ones."

"Oh…like the Grey Council, and the Council of Caste Elders."

"Wehhhsort of. It's a broad field, a really broad field, but yeah, usually the people in politics have some background in the study of law." Havah lapsed into silence for a bit as they walked.

Birin tolerated it for a small while, and then interrupted Havah's rumination. "Miss Havah, what do I have to tell you to make you believe that you are free of guilt, and of shame in this?"

"But I'm not, Birin. That soldier, or whatever he was…what he said was true, about me. I did do what he said. And if people here aren't ecstatic that I'm here, I have to understand why."

"I know very well who you are, and what you did, Havah! And 'people here' do not all feel what he feels. He spoke for himself and maybe some of the Warrior Caste, but he does not have the right to speak for everyone. He does not have the right to speak for me. I am glad you are here! I have never met a Human before you, and while I do not like the idea of my people dying, I also know that you are honorable and that you probably did then what you did today, defended yourself! You were a soldier. That is what soldiers do. That is what our soldiers did too, and you can keep talking about the War and looking guilty, but you will not convince me that you are, or that I should hate you!" She stopped in front of Havah.

Havah looked at her and broke into a grin.

As they turned on the street of the embassy building, Birin couldn't resist her fascination. "I wanted to ask you about the first man you defeated. Minbari are usually more resilient than he appeared. It is unlikely that one of our warriors would be forced to inaction by a few broken ribs. What did you do to defeat him so quickly?"

"Well, he probably didn't have broken ribs. He probably had a damaged organ, maybe even ruptured. The technique you saw, that looked like a strike to the ribs was really an internal technique called Hsing-I. It means Mind-Form Fist. That means that my body and chi form the strike just as my mind forms the thought of the action. It uses muscle memory, and rather than dispersing the force across the surface, breaking bones or skin, it pinpoints the force deeper in the body, bypassing bone and striking at the organs and chi points themselves. I shouldn't have used it, or at least only if I could control it better. I know how tough Minbari soldiers are, and thought that the only way to end the fight quickly and keep him from coming after me was to shock his innards, basically."

"Oh. What is chi?"

"Life force energy. There is a theory that the chi flows along lines of the body called meridians. And they can be accessed at certain points in the body for different things and at different times of day. Like if I pressed a certain point on my body I could get rid of a headache, if I pressed another I could slow my heart rate, things like that. There are whole fields of medicine based on that theory. In fighting, with the proper amount of force, you can do specific things to your opponent, like make them urinate, numb specific areas of their bodies or limbs, lose consciousness, damage specific organs, or even kill them in specific ways. I am not nearly advanced enough in that art to be able to access those points at will on myself or anyone else. But I can get it right occasionally, usually by accident."

"Ah. We have a similar theory and a similar art based on it in the Temple. That is very interesting. And, occasionally or not, I do not think I would want to take the chance against you. So I am glad we are friends." She grinned at Havah. They were at the door of the embassy building, and Havah was late, very late. She thanked Birin again, resolved to hear more about the temple art at a later time, and rushed in to see if the tour group was still there.

She passed a seated cluster of people, waiting for interviews, or for their friends to be done interviewing. Bags were scattered everywhere. When Sinclair found out she was here, he came out of his office with a relieved look on his face. His interviewees had traveled several thousands of light years, they could wait a few more minutes. He had already assumed that something had happened to her to delay her like that, and had been more worried than irritated at her tardiness. When she explained what happened, his look got stormier and stormier.

After asking for the third time if she was alright, he scowled. "I was afraid this was going to happen. Not specifically to you, although I suppose it's not surprising. As you may have noticed, the Warrior Caste is not happy about our being here. I was reluctant to come at first. I don't like the idea of disturbing a bear in its own cave. But I was assigned here, and as adamant as the Warrior Caste is about keeping Humans away, the Religious Caste was about our coming here."

"From the little I've noticed so far, the Worker Caste is also anxious to have off-worlders here, better for commerce and trade. They're starting to welcome alien ideas and innovations. Maybe that is another thing that is bothering the Warrior Caste. Normally the influx of so many new ideas might bother the Religious Caste too. Their realm seems to be control of ideology. But I've been talking to a few Religious Caste people, at least I think they were Religious Caste, and it seems like they are acquiescing. They may be realizing that the Minbari are branching out, and they are going to branch out no matter what. So at least, if Humans and other aliens come here, the Religious Caste can learn our ways enough to frame and filter them for the communities they serve. I think that's why they want me here, as an ethnographer. Also, being scholars, I think they are just plain curious. But the Warrior Caste… Do you think they'll attack other Earth Alliance citizens?"

"Unlikely, I certainly hope not. I can't endorse Earth Alliance citizens coming here if I think they will be at risk like that. The Grey Council won't stand for that either, but they can't be everywhere all the time. And I am concerned about what this is doing to the Minbari. I know that the Council wants this, enough to interfere with our military to get me assigned here. But I don't want to be an instrument in catalyzing the caste tensions into a civil war."

"Are things that bad between them?"

"They're getting there. On the surface, it seems like the tension started with the Earth-Minbari War. But the more I talk to people, the more I get the impression that it's really been going on for longer than that. It just never had as obvious an outlet. I would even say that the Warrior Caste's hatred of Humans is partially a symptom of Warrior Caste tensions that have nothing to do with Humans. We are merely the most convenient expression of them."

"Scapegoats. Like Jews and gypsies were in Germany in the 1940s. That's a very dangerous position."

"Yes, it is."

"What an encouraging conversation for a wonderful day so far."

He smiled and laughed suddenly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dumped my doubts on you after the ordeal you just had. I'm very concerned about what just happened though. I'm glad you're ok. I have about three more entrance interviews, so why don't you sit in and take some notes. That will help me to hone the interviews, and it will give you some ideas as to what we need to look for when we clear people for entrance, and the kind of data the Minbari want to gather."

After the tussle and detention, there had been no time to return home and change. But her appearance was only slightly more off-kilter than it normally was. She smoothed her hair, which was escaping its bonds, tugged her shirt down over a grass-stain she had acquired in the scuffle, and followed him into the interview room.

That night at dinner, Havah wrestled with how to tell Katani and Sorail that she had gotten into trouble as soon as she left their house. She didn't know what repercussions the event might have for them, so she felt it at least fair to warn them, and she would rather them find out from her, than second-hand. She started with a stutter. "Um…Hey…I just wanted to thank you for all of your hospitality to me. I mean, you don't even know me and you've been just wonderful…That being said…I don't know how well you are going to think of me after what I have to tell you…"

They both just waited silently. Nohri made a raspberry at no one in particular.

"Um…I went into the city today to explore, but I got into a fight. There were a few guys that were very unhappy about my being here. And I guess I can't blame them. Anyway, so the police came and arrested all of us and then let me and another woman who got involved go. I just wanted to tell you because after everything you've done for me, I didn't want things to reflect on you because of what I did. I'll understand if you want me to leave." Havah resisted the urge to stare down at her lap, and looked from Katani to Sorail, waiting, chest tight.

"What do you mean they were unhappy about your being here? What did they do?"

"Well," Havah let her breath out, which she didn't even realize she'd been holding. "They just said that I didn't belong here and that I was a butcher because of what happened during the war, and they're probably right, at least about my being here, although I do believe that I did what I had to do during the war. Maybe it isn't right, me being here. And then this woman I met the other day, she told them off. They called her a traitor and when they went for me, she tried to defend me and they pulled a knife on her. She wasn't hurt though, the police came."

"These Minbari who didn't want you here, did they attack you?"

"Yeah, a couple of them tried, but I fought back, and now one of them is hurt really badly. I should have found a way to escape without doing that, without it coming to that. And I shouldn't have let the other woman get involved. They could have hurt her and it wasn't her problem."

"She made her own choice. What else could you have done?" Sorail asked.

"…I'm not sure. It all happened so fast. It's hard to think back and see the situation in slow motion. Maybe I could have run, then Birin wouldn't have felt she had to do something. Or if I had been paying more attention to my surroundings, maybe they couldn't have surrounded us, in the first place."

"That is well and good for a master of fala shen, to have the ability to diffuse all conflict. But you are a young woman, who was once a soldier. There are limits on what can be expected in such a situation. If you were attacked, it was expected that you would try to defend yourself, although no one should be attacking you to begin with. If they did not expect this, then they are clearly in need of more education, certainly of more discipline. As for the Minbari who defended you, that is even more of an indication that it is those who attacked you, who were in error. And I am shocked that anyone would behave this way toward one of our own citizens!"

"Then, I haven't embarrassed you or anything?"

"Most certainly not!" Katani exploded, from where she had been sitting, silently growing more and more furious. "How dare they! How dare they?" She repeated indignantly. "You are here because the Council says you do belong here. You agreed to come and spend time with strangers at their request, and how dare these arrogant warriors question that and presume to speak for the rest of us! And how dare they try to enforce their own will above all others! Insolent children!" She had risen and threw a cloth down on the table. Havah had never seen any Minbari but the soldiers during the War, and her father, so riled up. "And how dare they attack two women threatening no one! I do not care if you had blown up an entire squadron during the war, in fair combat, that is no excuse for them to attack a woman innocently wandering through a strange city! Were you hurt?"

"No! No, ma'am, no I'm fine."

"Please do not be afraid to say so, if you need medical attention, these things—"

"No, no, really! I'm fine, I'm ok. I just felt bad about what happened." It had been a very long day without the thought of a physician. She certainly hadn't meant to incite Katani's motherly wrath, although she was doubly thankful that it was not directed at her. She could certainly see what Sinclair meant about tensions being that bad. It was clear that part of Katani's anger stemmed from her feelings about the Warrior Caste.

"Well," Katani said, drawing a deep breath, calming herself. "I certainly hope that they have not convinced you to leave us, and that I have not frightened you away with my outburst. We are sincere that you are welcome here and that we wish to learn more about Humans. But when I hear things like that it makes me very angry, and very concerned, for you, but also for us. There are many changes coming. And if we do not learn to grow with them and adapt, if we are not ready for what comes, I do not know what will happen to us." She finished somberly.

As she had with Delenn, Havah got the feeling that Katani was speaking of more than just an isolated incident, but of a cross-roads. "I'm not that easy to scare off. I am happy to stay for as long as you can put up with me. Thank you for being concerned about me though. I really am ok. And so is Birin. I did have some questions about your police department though."

"What are your questions?" Sorail asked.

"Well, Birin said that it is composed of volunteers, and that the patrolling units are made up of one person from each caste."

"That is correct. There are nine units at any given time. They are not all patrolling. Some remain at the processing center."

"Nine? That's it? Nine times three, twenty-seven officers? So it's a skeleton crew. Well even with just nine units, I didn't get the impression, except for what happened today, that there was much crime."

"There is not. The Fala 'Shok, you call them the 'police', do many things. They assist with crowd direction at public events, or municipal difficulties, such as a power disruption or ice storms, assist persons who are lost or having difficulty getting places in the city. They mediate disputes. Your dispute merely erupted into a fight before it could be controlled. There are many commuters and travelers from other places on Minbar and even from our colony worlds. The traffic in all of these places is not the same, so that when others come here, the rules by which they fly are not always the same as ours, especially from a small rural outpost or village, to the capital city. The fala'shok help traffic to run smoothly and help visitors to understand the traffic rules."

_So they're meter maids_. "Oh, so they give tickets."

"Tickets?"

"Yeah, citations for traffic violations. If you get a ticket, you can dispute it in a court of law or pay a fine, pay money to the state or city. If it's a bad enough ticket, like if you've broken the same law a million times, then you can either get your driver's license suspended or go to driving school. Actually, you can go to driving school to get the fine on a regular ticket lowered."

"Oh. No, it does not work that way exactly. If the fala'shok stop you for the violation of a traffic rule, it is assumed that you have broken it because you did not know the rules, or had forgotten them. So the officer takes you aside and explains the rule that you broke, so that you are more informed when you resume. They do not punish for ignorance, they merely instruct the traveler on the traffic rules of this city. I believe that they do have a school, if their scanners indicate that someone is having difficulty understanding the rules, if they are pulled over nine times within a year. But there is no fine, and I have never heard of someone being forbidden from flying."

"Whoa. That's wild. Do they carry weapons?"

"They carry a shocking device, but it is unthinkable that they should be forced to use it. The person who required such a measure would be shamed. It is a long time since even such a fight as you were in, has happened here. Most of the city will have heard about it by tomorrow."

"Whoa…What does 'fala' shok mean. You used the term earlier, you said 'fala shen.' What does 'fala shen' mean?"

"Fala is a concept meaning peace, you see. So fala shen means the art of practicing peace. It is what Humans ironically call a 'martial art'. It is our highest art. Those who are masters in it never find it necessary to engage in a fight, although they are capable of defending themselves should it be required. But to find it necessary is considered a failure. It takes many many years to master this and very few have, perhaps none living now. No one really knows. So 'fala 'shok' can be translated as peace officers or peace units, an organization dedicated to peace. 'Shok' is a concept, like 'fala' there is no direct translation. Because it is a concept it can take on many grammatical forms. It can describe a verb, noun, or adjective. The word mostly means 'essence'. So the anla 'shok means that the people in this organization watch and fight. 'Anla' is observation with martial intent. It also means unity. They are united and pull together all castes and clans, like the fala 'shok. But the fala shok are civil and involved with everyday peace."

Havah digested this. "I heard another word with 'shok' in it…'shok tot'. I was on the station and everyone was freaking out about this guy they'd found. No one wanted him on the station. Some of the other aliens called him a Soul Hunter." At the sound of the word, Katani shuddered.

Sorail nodded. "Ah. The shok tot are terrible beings that capture people's souls and keep them from rejoining the Universe after they die. Then the people are trapped and cannot be born again. You see, if shok is essence, then shok tot are people who imprison or destroy essence."

"Ohhhh. I get it now. Sorry for being so slow."

"You are not slow. Those are good questions. It is a difficult language. We express concepts more than exact components of ideas, and yet we also have grammar that demands precision of expression in the midst of fluid concepts. Language is about the interplay of society and thought and the formation of reality. There is nothing simple about it."

"Very true. I read an article in one of my linguistics classes that said that too. It was by a guy named Benjamin Lee Whorf. He studied the language and culture of the Hopi Indians. He found that they also saw a link between expression of thought and perception of the world. In essence, they believed that to say something can make it so. For this reason, they believed that you must always speak well because good words make good thought makes a good person. And they only alluded to death, because to speak of it too much could bring it about, because people would think about it too much and make it happen. That's a really coarse explanation for their concept, which is more complex and refined, but that was the general idea, according to Whorf."

Sorail cocked his head, absorbing the exchange. He smiled. "Very interesting. I would like to read this article sometime."

"I'll find it for you."

Havah helped clean up and then went straight to bed.

As Sorail had predicted, everyone knew about the fight the next day, including an incensed Rathenn. When Havah saw his face she made a mental note to never piss off a Satai. He came over during her language lesson, apologizing profusely and assuring her that the matter was being 'dealt with'. She made no inquiries into what that meant, but he explained that since they were in the military, their superior officers had been notified of the incident, and it was they who would determine punishment. She knew from her own experience in the military, that infractions like that, even though they were against a Human, were not likely to be 'dealt with' lightly. Especially since they had publicly lost the fight…to a Human. She didn't envy them.

In the next week, she began formally gathering cultural data. She conducted numerous key informant interviews with Katani and Sorail, Birin, Satai Rathenn, and others who volunteered. In this regard, she found that the fight she had engaged in a week earlier, seemed to make people more eager. She had remarked on people's willingness to participate, and Katani's answer had been at once interesting and disconcerting. "They respect you. You stood up to the soldiers well, and even defeated them. Despite your past victory, no one was expecting you to win in such an open hand-to-hand confrontation. In addition, you have worked hard in the past few years in the service of your people, to better life for many, and this also is respected. And, they know that your work here is supported and in fact, endorsed by the Grey Council, so they wish to contribute. And, as you may have noticed, many of us are concerned about the future. The documentation of a culture is no small task and of no small importance, especially in times like these."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems to me that the Minbari spirit is changing. Our culture is changing, our attitudes. I believe that before long, our culture and our souls will never again look as they do now. They have been changing for some time, the total character of our society. Our young people are restless, even angry. It is as though our time has come and gone and something in us is waning, and our young people know it. Or perhaps it is merely that we need fresh ideas, fresh spirit. We have a tendency to cling to old ways, which is a benefit in some ways. But in others, we would benefit more by being more like Humans. What little I have seen of your race is encouraging. You are vital and always hungering for new horizons and new ideas. You suffer and waste a great deal that is useful because you discard the old so quickly, so you do not gain wisdom quickly. What you do gain, is through trial and error, through terrible mistakes and loss. But because of this, you also make great leaps in cognizance and understanding, and with so much variety. Your cultures are so vibrant and adaptable. We need this. Our historians and historical analysts can tell us where we've been. You can help to tell us where we are now and why, and perhaps help us to determine where we are going, or where we need to go. Someone like you has a unique view of the Minbari. You stand with one foot in and one foot out. You can see and understand us, but as a Human, you can also see things about us that we cannot see as Minbari. You understand?"

"Yes. I think so." She thought about her father and realized that Katani was closer to the truth than she knew.

Katani and Sorail proved to be excellent sponsors, as Rathenn had indicated, giving her access to rituals and events that she would not normally have been privy to, as an off-worlder. Tonight, however, was for anyone and everyone. It was the end of the Minbari year. Longer than Human years, their cycle, at least on this continent, ended in the summer. All of Yedor, it seemed, came out to say goodbye to the past year. Their most celebratory ritual came at the end of the old year rather than at the beginning of the new. Katani, Sorail and little Nohri were all dressed in their finest robes. Both Katani and Sorail carried candles encased in clear crystal holders. They gave Havah a candle to carry. The streets were teeming as they walked down the avenue towards the Temple, and the people she passed all carried candles too. The road to the temple reminded Havah of the last scene of the old Disney Fantasia, in which a path up the old demon mountain was lit by bobbing little pinpoints of light. Except this was a river of candles, a stream of glitter-fire going off to the distant crystal tower, ice blue in the starlight. All other lights in the city had been extinguished, at least as far as Havah could see, perhaps because they were all here, bearing their little slivers of starlight, surrounded by night. Katani explained as they went. "The Minbari calendar is constructed so that there are 9 days between the old and new year. The days are not continuous from one year to the next, so that we have time to plan the new year. This is the last night before the interlude. You have a holiday called…Halloween, yes?"

"Yes. It marks the death or waning of the year and life on our planet. It is also called All Souls night. We are visited by the dead that night. And we dress up as otherworldly beings or monsters to represent the dark side of the year and of life."

"Well, our interlude has elements of that sentiment in it. For the next three days, some of us will pick another…profession, another caste, and walk in the ways of that calling or station. I am Religious Caste, so I may pick either a profession in the Warrior or Worker Caste. I will be trained as such, by those in that profession who have not chosen to Change. It is not required, only encouraged for enlightenment. There are not many who do this any longer. That tradition was once more popular, and has always been more popular among the Worker Caste than among the other two. On the fourth day of the interlude, Minbari have a day of impropriety. On this day, there are no stations and no castes recognized. We do not observe all of the customs that we normally do, except those needed for safety and avoidance of hurting the feelings and physical being of others. But most etiquette is discarded that day which is normally observed for rank and station. Teachers become students. And people can dress as figures in our myths that were negative or frightening, like your Halloween. I am going to be Chok 'ti! He was a figure from our myth that you would call…a demon. He exemplified unchecked jealousy. And Sorail is going to be a shok 'tot. His costume is very frightening. When Nohri saw it, she ran and hid behind her bed." Katani beamed in delight. "The next two days are the opposite of this improper day. On these days, we remember our dead with respect and also remember people in our lives or history whom we admired and who taught us. On these days, people often dress up as those we wish to emulate in the hopes that if we resemble them, some of their souls or their inspiration will come into us. I am going to dress as Valeria. She was a great teacher and prophetess."

"I bet that there are twenty-million Valens that day."

Both Katani and Sorail laughed. "Yes. That is a popular one. But you should know that this ritual predates the coming of Valen by thousands of years. He saved us in the last Shadow War, so he was the greatest of us, and the most recent, but he was not the only great figure of our history. You will see."

"So what about the last three days?"

"Those are days of meditation. During this time we have been wrapping up our affairs of the past year, paying old debts, trying to heal old wounds, or simply tying up old unfinished projects. In the last three days of Interlude, we absorb and reflect on what we have learned in the past six days, with the exchange of caste and station, with the exemplification of impropriety, and the exemplification of what we wish to become. From that reflection we try to plan the next year to be more productive and enlightened than the last. And on the first day of the new year, new plans are often made or revealed, professional or personal."

"Wow…" was all Havah had a chance to say because they had arrived in front of the Temple. They stood back from the crowd a bit, and Sorail put a squirming Nohri down. He had been carrying her on his shoulders, but she had decided that it was time to run around. Katani held her hand so that she didn't run off and get lost in the crowd, since she displayed the same ability as other children to teleport away from her parents at stunning speed. The ritual was about to begin. The light of thousands of candles carried both by the observing Minbari and on the platform altar, poured into the air, warming it with a golden glow, reflected in the crystal. Three larger fires were lit on either side and in the back of the platform, and a small assemblage of priests and young acolytes formed in the back. One stepped forward and began to speak. Katani leaned over briefly and whispered to Havah. "He will tell of the Beginning, so that we know from whence we came."

"Dol'An, she who is the Universe, was born in blackness. All around her was blackness. When she looked around and saw nothing and no one around her, she yearned for others, for something to see and feel and touch. So she swam and swam and swam, looking, searching, seeking for others to be with. From the heat and the toil of her swimming, parts of her broke away and became the stars and the planets. The spinning of the galaxies were the eddies of her passing in the current of space-time. The expanding of all things is the spinning of her body in the center of the blackness as she surveys what her seeking has brought. From her breath in the black, the Old Ones were born. They walk among the stars, her companions. Millions of years ago she came to Minbar. But our world was then silent except for the sound of the wind of her breath through the crystal mountains, and the spinning of the stars."

At this cue, a musician to the side of the platform began playing an instrument. It was the singing of water rubbed around a crystal rim, a high pitched molten hum. It was the sound of the beginning of Minbar.

"The sound saddened her with its loneliness. It so saddened her and reminded her of her own loneliness that she began to cry." More water-tones were added to the first, a chorus of wind and teary cries. Water and air.

"Her cries reverberated through the galaxy, bouncing off of other planets and the stars themselves, shaking parts of them loose, seeds of fire." At this cue, more musicians added more sounds to the crystal wail. The first new sound was a single straight beat, one per measure played on three huge drums, the sound of a voice among the stars.

"One of these seeds of fire fell to Minbar, and sank into the land in the heart of the mountains. Watered by Dol'An's breath and the yearning of her tears, the seed grew and split into many seeds." The beat became far more complex, with paradiddles and trills. The backtone of the steady beat played on, more staccato now. The patterns reminded Havah of the Japanese taiko drummers, and the Minbari playing them became animated in the same way, motions exaggerated. She looked down at Nohri, who was spinning around and around, and bouncing up and down, dancing to the beat.

"From this fiery star-seed, the tears of Dol'An, and the crystal of this land, the first Minbari were born in the seas formed by those tears." A few acolytes who had lain down in the center of the stage rose, like a pod of dolphins, and drifted around searching for food. "The world then was full of fire and star-seeds. In the seas, on the land and in the sky, the seeds sprouted and made the waters warm, under the fiery sun, the eye of Dol'An. She was happy now, and her eyes shone. The sun, and the two moons. When her eyes were closed, the light even came through her eyelids. Her breath was full of light, the spirits of Minbar, and they shimmered in the northern and southern skies. The children of the seas saw the northern and southern lights and were at peace. The lights were the mirror of her reflection. All the children had to do was look to the sky to see her. Alas, Dol'An left, to return to the black, but left the spirits here to tend to Minbar and her children. But in her absence, the water grew colder and turned to ice, and her children began to freeze. They swam and swam to find warmer waters, but none were warm enough." The young acolytes all huddled in the center of the platform, shivering. "The spirits had pity on them and led them to land and gave them the strength to walk in the air and leave the water. The children of Dol'An left their cities and walked on land. But this new home was harsh. They felt the air and found that the world was still too cold. So they gathered up their families and began the long trail. After many seasons, they arrived in a warmer land and built their homes of the mountains and earth." A group of acolytes carried chisels and mining equipment onto the platform and began chiseling imaginary homes.

"But they soon found that monsters lived there. Nights were spent in terror and fire." Another acolyte wearing a stylized mask of a creature brandishing a flaming brazier ran out among the group of acolytes, scattering them.

"The children learned to fight the monsters. They fashioned weapons of the earth and hewed shelters deep among the mountains, and defended them from the monsters. There were great battles and many children and many monsters were destroyed. But finally, the monsters were gone, and the children continued to live." A small gaggle of monsters rushed out and began chasing the group of acolytes, who drew long crystal swords, flashing in the firelight, and slashed them in play at the monsters, who wrestled with the acolytes and then fell down, along with some of the acolytes. A couple still stood, looking around at the small collection of bodies, who surreptitiously crawled off of the platform.

"The earth of which they built their homes was like solid water and reminded them of the sea and ice from which they had come. Some missed the sea and remained close by the new shores. The waters there were warmer, but the sea-children found that they could no longer return. They had been of the land for too long and had forgotten how to live in the sea. They cried and asked the spirits to help them learn how to live in the sea again." The pod of acolytes kneeled on the platform and washed their faces with buckets of water that had been placed out, and raised their hands to the sky.

"The spirits replied that it was too late, but they could visit the sea sometimes. The sea-children learned to build crafts to visit the sea, and homes near the shores of the sea, so they could always feel its breath in the air. And they ate of the sea, always hoping that if they did, someday they could return." The school of acolytes began handing out small nuggets of cooked fish to those closest in the audience.

"Some Minbari ventured into the land and made their homes there, missing the sea, but enjoying the land and the life they found there. Those families who had been the most successful in fighting the monsters, remained warriors. Those who had built the best shelters, weapons and land-tools became the craftsmen, and those who had been the best at speaking with the spirits for guidance, and keeping the children together on the long trail became the priests." A large group of acolytes broke into groups and began acting out different tasks.

Katani leaned over again and whispered, "That is why we say that someone 'Goes to the sea', when he or she dies. They are returning home."

The story continued for a while, through to the first conflict between families and then ended with an exhortation to remain as united on land as they had been in the sea. There were cheers, a raising of candles and then the presentation of the vegetable and fish offering to Dol'An and the spirits that helped them survive the Cold Times and the Long Trail.

Havah glanced around. Nohri was tuckered out and had fallen asleep on Sorail's shoulder, short arms dangling. The conclusion of the ceremony was the sharing of fish. Pieces of cooked fish were passed out through the gathered masses of thousands, while people talked and embraced. Many different people greeted Katani and Sorail and her, and expressed hopes that their past year had been good and that their new year would be better. About half an hour later, Havah got a piece of fish. It was slightly salty but otherwise plain, and remarkably fresh since they were a ways inland.

As they walked home, still carrying the candles, Havah was deep in thought. It made sense that the Minbari had been aquatic animals like dolphins, at some point in their history, even after their initial evolution as sentient beings. It would explain a lot of things, first as Katani had mentioned, their phrase, 'going to the sea.' It would also explain the lack of hair, the sebaceous glands that were not quite like the sweat of Humans, the high strength but lithe build. The strength must have been from a combination of being born swimmers, then forced miners. This would have formed denser bones and musculature despite a gravity that was similar if not identical to Earth's, like the iron bone training of some Earth martial arts, repeated concussion and exercise. And their marine origin might explain the formation of the bone crest, which must have been cartilaginous at one time, like the ramming forehead and snout of a dolphin. Everything Havah had seen, from their sun-fish star-ship design to their buildings to the flow of their writing was reminiscent of the sea and the shape of water in some way. They didn't bathe like Humans to get clean, but when they immersed themselves in water, it was to remind themselves of where they had come from. They also seemed to be very mother-centered. "So, Dol'An is female. That's very interesting. Many of Earth's creations myths make the Prime Creator male."

Katani answered. "Well, She is really an It. We portray her as a she because females are the ones who bring forth life, but it still takes two to make it, and she can be whatever she wants to be, male, female, both, or neither. It simply is. It is everything, so really, It is both and neither."

"Ah, I see. I guess that is also similar to Earth gods. We are the ones who assign gender and characteristics to something, in order to understand it within our context. Does the name mean anything?"

"Dol'An means She who Was Born in Blackness. 'Dol' or 'dral' means dark or black. 'An' is the principle of riding or existing in or among, using or transforming something. So Dol' An also means she who uses the blackness or rides in it. Whereas one of our Warrior Caste clans is called 'Fit' An, for 'Star Riders', they who use the stars or ride among them. As you know, our flagship during the war was called the 'Drala 'Fi', the Black Star."

"I see. So what happened to make your world cool off like that?"

"Only time. Our world was once much hotter because our sun was hotter. It was…I believe you call it a White Star. But our solar system is much older than yours, so it has cooled slowly and as it did, our polar caps formed and grew."

Crystal formation such as that on Minbar had to have been formed by tremendous heat and slow cooling. She glanced sideways at Katani and Sorail, and idly wondered what it would be like on Earth if people could understand the speech of dolphins. When they arrived at the house, Sorail deposited a floppy Nohri into her bed and sat up with a cup of tea next to Katani, talking of people they had encountered. Havah thanked her hosts, bid them a happy Holy Day, and good night, and excused herself to write down everything she had witnessed and learned that night. She had a million questions that would be answered another day. Laying, trying to go to sleep, brought to mind old Earth legends about mer-people, who lived in the sea, and all of the per-mutations of those tales: the sirens, whose enchanted voices lured sailors to their deaths among the rocks, the Selkies of the Shetland Isles, who would shed their seal-skins to come ashore for the love of a Human, and mourned forever when those skins were taken and they couldn't return to the sea. She shivered and went to sleep.

21


	11. Chapter 11

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 11: Different Faces

After assisting Ambassador Sinclair in developing a formal visa protocol, she left Yedor just before the end of Interlude to see other regions and record the regional differences. She arrived at the eastern coastal town of Vazor in the mid-afternoon, and traveled to the local fishing village of Tiluri in the evening. She began to assimilate place-names and recognize that the ending 'or' meant large town or city, and 'uri' meant small town or village. 'Ve', or 'va' meant 'tears', so Vazor was named because it rained frequently, and rain was the tears of Dol' An. It was an interesting place. Apparently it was the region that one of the prominent Warrior Caste clans came from, the Wind Swords. The local people seemed friendly, although somewhat stoic, in a way that reminded her of New England. But she made a point to avoid any warriors if possible. No sense in having a repeat of the incident two weeks ago. According the Worker Caste fisher-family she stayed with, the Wind Swords were one of the more militant clans, and vehemently hated Humans. Luckily, many of the families of the Wind Swords had migrated to the vicinity of key military compounds around Minbar, leaving this area primarily to the fisherfolk. However, she noticed that in this village at least, the caste lines were not as clearly drawn. She asked if this was because of the Old Year custom of exchanging profession, but the man replied that the caste system was not as marked in the smaller, less populated areas. It was not always practical to have solid divisions in a small town with a great deal to do, and fewer people to do it. The castes were still recognized, but the division of actual tasks was less specialized.

She went out in the boat with the parents and eldest child and tried to learn their fishing methods, until she was overtaken by an extreme bout of sea-sickness. The family's eldest boy, Dulier, looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and hidden amusement. They had all grown up on or around boats. She was clearly a land-lubber. He brought her a blanket and food, the thought of which made her want to yak all over the side of the boat. But it was a sweet gesture. He talked to try to distract her from her nausea. He told her some of the history of the area. Becoming absorbed in the information helped. In the past, the clans and families of the region up and down this coast, Worker or Warrior, had been renowned navigators of ocean and sea, similar to the Maori of New Zealand. They even had developed a similar device for navigation using wave patterns. Originally the name of the Wind Sword clan had in fact been the Wind Riders or Wind Talkers, so intimate was their knowledge of the sea. But the ferocity of the warriors, especially in times of clan conflict altered the local perception of them. They became known as the Wind Swords because of the swiftness with which they struck, and the total devastation that they could wreak in an attack, like the wake of a hurricane, mowing down enemies with the totality of indomitable wind-shear. Traditionally, their main conflicts had arisen out of their competition with another prominent clan, the Star Riders. Havah had heard that name before, and she listened intently despite her persistent queasiness. It was the clan of her father. The Star Riders were more of an inland clan. In the past they had navigated the steppes, woods, and mountains as the Wind Swords had navigated the seas. Anywhere they were on the planet, they could determine their location by the position of the stars. _Well, apparently I didn't get that talent from my dad. I get lost in my own neighborhood_, Havah thought sourly. Her nausea momentarily forgotten in fascination, she took notes as fast as Dulier explained, tapping the recorder to make sure it was undamaged by the salt air.

In the beginning, the clans' respective regions kept them out of conflict, but in time, as people and families migrated, competition arose. This conflict only intensified when the Minbari population grew and united in mechanical or technological innovation. For land, the system of navigation the Star Riders used was the pre-eminent development. This pre-eminence continued into the Minbari's period of early space flight, when they did not have the technology to detect graviton waves. But once this technology was developed, and they moved beyond what Earthers would call Newtonian physics, the Wind Sword's wave diffraction system was adapted to detect gravity waves, and the Star Rider's navigation system fell into disuse. Wave detection was the system they used during the Earth-Minbari war.

_That was how their jump engines could target such a small area with such accuracy_, Havah thought.

Dulier continued to tell her about the clan conflict. Apparently it had grown quite savage at times, since both clans produced extraordinarily formidable warriors, fueled by competition in many arenas.

_Like the Montagues and the Capulets,_ Havah thought.

And then after the initial blood-shed, it became harder to let go of old wounds and the reasons for the conflict deepened as each clan's mercurial tempers waxed out of control. With the advent of space flight and contact with other races, they, along with much of the Warrior Caste had become strongly nationalistic, the Wind Swords more so. Both were considered two of the oldest known and most powerful of the Warrior Caste clans, with their own schools and fighting academies, sought after by other clans for education. The Star Riders, while somewhat exclusive, tended to collaborate more with the rest of the Minbari population and other castes, so they admitted more students of other clans to their training schools. But entrance was still extremely stringent and based on exemplary physical and mental performance, even for those in the clan themselves. Anyone not passing the exams, who were of the Star Riders clan would be relegated to more supportive or administrative positions with low visibility.

_Desk jobs,_ Havah thought.

The Wind Swords rarely admitted anyone not of their clan. The boy talked to her for a while about various things until she could finally stand without falling over. She really wanted to help out on the boat if she could, and of course learn something of this remarkable navigational system. The rest of the day passed pleasantly with the wistful sounds of some sea mammals braying from the water, and the lapping waves against the boat. She learned of a legend concerning the mammals they kept seeing alongside the boat, called loktari. They looked something like manatees, large and bulky, with coarse dark fur and flippers, but their eyes were more like the giant eyes of whales. They were considered by the Minbari to be intelligent and sentient, and as such, were not eaten or killed. In fact, the legend went that after the Minbari left the water for good, the loktari called and called for their lost companions and still call to this day. They hang about the bows of ships, hoping to catch a glimpse of their long-lost friends. And if a Minbari is lost at sea or drowning, the loktari will guide them back to land or boat, protecting them from the cold and from sea-predators, recognizing their old fellows and remembering their alliance of long ago, despite the Minbari's new lives and forms. Some even say that on quiet nights, when the loktari come close to shore, one can understand their calls, if one concentrates very hard. Dulier spent many nights trying, as did his father when he was a boy.

All in all, it was a productive day and a productive trip. She spent a couple days with them, helping about their small bungalow. She traveled to a few other regions, thinking of Trell, whom she'd not gotten contact with since she arrived on Minbar.

_He may be off-planet_, she thought.

And she found, in comparing notes taken, that it did seem to be the case that the caste system was more distinguishable in areas of high population density. Like many Earth societies, stratification seemed to occur both to relieve population pressure, and to allow for deeper specialization and expertise in particular areas: targeted diversification. In addition, the caste system, comprised of three main castes, Worker, Warrior, and Religious, still had certain professions that cut across all three castes. Medicine was one of them. No one caste could claim such a discipline. It was, instead, within the realm of the telepath's guild, which pulled the talented members from all castes and clans. Researchers, scientists and healers were not mutually exclusive, but any researcher who interfaced with patients was a healer and as such, a mild telepath. But only those within the telepath's guild who displayed a capacity for social skill and healing became healers. All castes had scientists, researchers, and analysts of various backgrounds. The main differences seemed to be that the Worker Caste disciplines tended to be more 'hands on,' and their science, more tangible and hard than that of the Religious Caste, which dealt more in theory and the softer more complex variables of society. The Warrior Caste took on more tasks related directly to security and war or preparation for such, using the devices and technology engineered or adapted and built by the Worker Caste. And both the Worker and Religious Caste were more involved with the arts, the Worker Caste, in the interest of beautification and enrichment, and the Religious Caste in the interest of the exercise itself. The Worker Caste, however, was the only caste to do menial labor on a civic scale, although most Minbari, unless they had assistants or attendants, took care of their own affairs within their own homes or estates. She still didn't completely understand the relationship between caste and clan. It seemed as though clans began exclusively in one or another caste, but as time progressed, they shifted, as people changed callings, but the majority of the clan stayed primarily in one or two of the castes. Despite some diversification within clans though, there was a sense of elitism, within the Religious and Warrior castes, although not absolute or obvious. This was apparent in the general lack of intermarriage between people in the professions of the Worker Caste and the other two castes. This homogeneity was not due to the reluctance of the Worker Caste, who had been the most adventurous of the castes in exploring other cultures. She was informed, in fact, that it was because of the Worker Caste's wanderings and obvious curiosity regarding the reproductive anatomy of other races in the early days of contact with other races, that had prompted the rule that Minbari should only take a mate who was Minbari. But learning the stories and accounts from different regions led her to believe that there was in fact more variation among the Minbari than represented by Delenn. This was not surprising. She wore the face that Minbar wished to present. And busy people like Katani and Trell may see either very little outside of their jobs or regions, or in Trell's case, more of other races than of his own kind. They would have no basis for comparison, like New Yorkers who have never seen the inside of the Statue of Liberty, until they take their out-of-town friends. She recorded all of this information while traveling.

This was good, because once she arrived back in Yedor, there was no time. Apparently, Satai Rathenn, in keeping with the custom of revealing new plans for the new year, had done so. And what a plan it was. The Grey Council had decided to ask Ambassador Sinclair to take command of the Anla S'hok, making him not only the first alien ever to set foot on Minbar, but certainly the first ever to man a military position.

_I bet the Warrior Caste are just joyous about that, _Havah thought as she made her way to his office, half expecting to see toilet paper and angry graffiti garnishing the building. There wasn't. She slipped inside and stared at him with a smirk. "So can I call you 'sir' again?"

He sighed, "No. I haven't decided to take the position. And stop grinning at me like that. Don't you have work to do?" He said irritably.

She grinned even wider. "No, I just got here, from a very long trip. You should be nice to me. It says so in the protocol we wrote. It says 'Be nice to out-of-town assistant.'"

"What does it say about my Minbari assistant?"

"Nothing. He can write his own clauses into the protocol."

Sinclair laughed and hugged her. "Well, good to have you back. How was your trip?"

"Very productive and interesting. I learned that I hate boats as much here as I do at home, although the lore was very interesting and the people I stayed with were all very nice—" She turned around to face him after going to hang up her coat, and what faced her almost took her to the floor. A tall Minbari man with Sinclair's unmistakable eyes looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish her sentence. She didn't.

Instead she stared at him, shaking her head, blinking and rubbing her eyes, until his face grew concerned and he said, also with Sinclair's voice, "Havah? Are you alright?"

She closed her mouth, put her head down, covered her eyes with her hand and reassured this pod-person with Sinclair's features, "Uh…yeah…sure. Just a long trip back!" She looked up to smile nervously at him, and the Human Sinclair was back. _What in Valen's name was that?_ She thought, and then realized the content of her thought. _I must be adjusting, I'm even using their exclamations._ She sat heavily down in a chair.

Sinclair was still peering at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah…no." She rubbed her forehead. "But I will be as soon as I get something to eat. I think I'm just having a long day. I'm going to grab a bite and bring it back here. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Do you want to go home?"

"No. Just need a moment."

He nodded, and she went, and returned with food. They got to the paperwork, and she stayed unusually quiet the rest of the afternoon, glancing nervously at him from time to time, not knowing what she would see at the next glance. She told no one what she had seen for a long time.

After about a week, Sinclair decided, against his better judgment to accept the position as commander of the Anla 'Shok. Following this decision, the next time Havah came in to assist in the diplomatic office, he shut the door and told her to have a seat. He started carefully. "I'm taking the position."

Havah's eyes widened. "Yeah? Cool! Have you told Earth Force HQ yet?"

"No, and the way things are going back home, it may be better not to. Somehow I doubt they'll think of it as 'cool.' I wasn't going to take it. It's one thing to be controversial on our own world, but I have a lot of hesitation getting involved in something so controversial on an alien world. But…I met with the Grey Council a number of times. Every time I came up with a reason to not take the position, they wanted to meet with me to give me a reason to take it. They said that there was great need, and that really they weren't considering any one else as appropriate for the position. I asked them why not, and they explained that they want to begin integrating Humans into the Anla Shok, and they feel that there isn't anyone else who both the Minbari and the Humans will trust. My next question of course, was why did they wish to ask Humans to join a Minbari military organization. Or, why specifically Humans? Their answer was not convincing, at first. Aside from the business about our having their souls, which I am still not sold on, they said that the numbers were depleted. The Warrior Caste had largely abandoned the order, believing it unnecessary and leaving it understaffed, with only a few older Religious Caste operatives. So why would I have any interest in something that the Warrior Caste thought was a waste of time, and why would other Humans be interested? Well, at first it seemed that they didn't want to tell me, but then they became more forthcoming when I told them that no Human including myself would join an alien organization unless they had clear and logical motivation…I'm telling you all of this because I want to ask you to be my executive officer. They recommended your name for this post, and I agree with their evaluation. You have a short, but impressive military record. You are intelligent, easy to work with, and most important, honest about your opinion. You also have extensive experience with interviewing and investigation. These are skills needed by the Anla 'Shok. They are surveillance specialists as well as military officers. In addition, although no one knows about your father, you are in fact, half-Human and half-Minbari, so if it's symbolism they're looking for, you fit the bill in that respect. Even if they don't know it. But you have every right and need to know why I have chosen to join. They presented me with information on an alien race that we have very little solid data on. What they have shown me suggests the possibility that this race is aggressive and not interested in diplomacy. There is not enough information yet to make any assumptions, however. My interest lies in the fact that if they are a threat, they appear to be powerful enough to engage many of the organized races, and Earth Gov may not be in a position to fight them. I would not have said this even two weeks ago, but EarthGov was just given information on sightings of ships of this configuration and they all but called them bubbles of swamp gas! They are not acknowledging valid reports and I want to know why! The evidence we compiled indicating the President's assassination disappeared en route to Earth, and I want to know more about that too. And this post may be the only way to learn the answers to any of these questions. The data the Council showed me was…disturbing. And if I can be of some use to our people and to our allies, even through another organization, it's worth a shot. It's more than I'm doing currently."

_I knew it, I knew he wasn't happy sitting here when there were questions to be solved at home. How long did they think they could way-lay him?_ Havah thought triumphantly.

"The Council would not allow the data out of their possession, so I'm afraid that if you have more questions about what they showed me, you will have to meet with some of them. Do you want to meet with them?"

"…Yes."

He leaned over to the wall-com and contacted Satai Rathenn. "Her answer was as I told you it would be."

"Of course. May we meet in an hour on the ship? We will transport you."

"That will be fine. Thank you, Satai."

"Very well."

As they awaited the transport ship, Havah said out of the corner of her mouth, "Are you sure their interest wouldn't have anything to do with that weird yarn about Minbari souls?"

Sinclair leaned over and replied under his breath. "I'm fairly certain that the reason that they have been so secretive about their information has about half to do with matters of planetary security, and half to do with the fact that either we didn't give that hypothesis the reception they hoped we would, or that we gave it exactly the reception they were afraid of. They took a big chance telling anyone that."

"I bet."

"Be nice."

"What do you mean 'Be nice'? When am I not nice?"

Sinclair smirked and shot her a look as they boarded the manta-like transport.

As they approached the giant war-ship, Havah involuntarily shuddered. She hadn't been aboard a Minbari war-ship since the War, and hadn't had a working memory of it until a couple of months ago. It still looked deadly. They docked and were led by a tall assistant into a large room lit by white light from diamond-shaped wall panels. There were four people in the room. Two she knew, one she didn't, and one, she wasn't sure was even a person. It was a tall-robed creature, like the one she had seen in the bar so long ago on Babylon 5, and like the one that had spoken to her on the Minbari ship during the Earth-Minbari War. The other two she knew were Satai Delenn and Satai Rathenn. The other Minbari was also Grey Council, but she didn't know him. Something told her he was not Warrior Caste.

"Welcome. It was good of you to come. You are looking well." Delenn spoke and bowed to them. "Havah, you know Satai Rathenn, this is Satai Gorhat, and this is Ambassador Ulkesh, of the Vorlon Federation." She indicated the encounter-suited figure. He/she/it tilted its head, expanded the iris in the middle of the mouth area and said nothing. Havah stared for a moment at the horns on the top of its helmet and then returned her gaze to Delenn, who continued. "You are here because you require more evidence of the threat we revealed to Ambassador Sinclair."

"He said that there might or might not be a threat." She said neutrally, keeping her face dead-pan. She wasn't getting railroaded into deciding one way or another until she saw something more convincing than fairy tales to explain their actions at the end of the war.

Delenn, Rathenn, and the other Council member exchanged significant glances. At Delenn's nod, Rathenn lowered the level of light and Delenn put a crystal into a port on a table next to them. "This log entry was recorded from one of our ships, returning to Minbar after a particular battle with these alien ships in our war with them a thousand years ago, audio only."

"_I am Alyt Durann, first officer of the Fire Storm. It is 32 solar hours since we fled the ships. Our engines were hit and our life support will fail in eight standard hours, twelve hours before our ship can reach Minbar. Our coordinates are now 15 by 9 by 12. This message is for those who find us. It will be too late for us, but with luck, not for anyone who hears this. The rest of our cruisers have been destroyed. I have seen the alien ships. We have not known what to look for in the previous attacks because in the previous attacks no one was left alive to identify them. They are black, blacker than the void, but they shimmer for a moment if one stares at them, just before their blackness engulfs even the reflection of the stars from their hulls. They have eight to ten very long spikes or protrusions from either side of the core, like arms. They are as large as our largest war cruisers and far more powerful, with red antiproton beams. They have a number of capabilities. They can belch out a ball of spikes that fractures into large numbers of smaller fighters of similar configuration to the large cruisers. Organic technology. And they can appear from nowhere, without the use of any jump gate. Reality ebbs and slides away before them, and then they can melt back into the void. And they scream. They scream in our minds as they approach, as though they would rip our very spirits from our bodies. The screams are full of the dying and the dead. They must be stopped before they strike directly at home-world."_

Those ships had been in her dreams.

Delenn spoke. "Ships of this configuration were sighted in hyperspace recently and even recorded, near Mars. Your President Clark was told of this sighting, but denied that they were anything more than blips in the recording."

Havah snorted bitterly. "No one voted for him!…Sorry. That sounds like Clark."

Delenn continued. "This next recording was taken at a medical facility in the Vega system six years ago, shortly after the disappearance of a ship called the Icarus. It was an archaeological expedition bound for a planet on the Rim called Z'hadum. We believe Z'hadum to be the home-world of these aliens. The man arrived at the medical facility claiming that the crew of the Icarus had encountered an accident, with no other survivors but himself and a couple others. No others aboard this ship have been found or are believed to be still living, from this accident. However, his medical exam indicated that he sustained no injury. His name is Mr. Morden."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute—" Havah interrupted before Delenn could continue. "Medical records are strictly, and I mean strictly confidential! How did you get his medical record, and why was he being taped?"

Delenn slipped the crystal into the port. The man in the recording was the one Havah had seen in the bar, the dark man with the winter smile. As he sat, there was a staticky warbling that seemed to seep from the recording into the air of the room around them. She had heard that before too. The sound rippled the hair on the backs of her arms. She had heard that sound in the bar, near Morden, and she had heard those horrible sounds in her dreams every time her and child were about to die. The sounds had surrounded her, filling her ears, as inescapable as the void.

"**YES.**" The Vorlon spoke.

Havah realized that her whole body was shaking, and her face must have been a sight.

"Havah, are you alright?" Rathenn asked.

"Can you filter out certain frequencies of light on that thing, on a recording? Can you change the wavelength used to view it? Like alter the phase or something?"

"It may be possible."

"Do it…please…if you can."

Rathenn tinkered with the recorder and the image began to play again. As he played with the controls the vision shifted and slowly the room in the image darkened and other forms took shape revealing the barest outline of the arachnoid horrors that had chased her through dreams for the past several years. "Freeze the image."

There they were, making holes in space, like the children of Ungoliant the spider-demon, in the old Tolkien myths. The Devourers. If there had been anything in Havah's stomach, she would have lost it. A wave of nausea swept over her and she closed her eyes. They were real. The damn things were real. So she had been receiving some kind of psychic transmission from a thousand year old dead Minbari woman. Or something like that. Why? A warning? Havah slowly looked from the screen to Delenn. Their eyes locked.

"I'm in." Havah said quietly.

Rathenn took the crystal out of the port and the vision disappeared.

"I'm supposed to be doing ethnography. What do you want me to do about that?"

"If you would compile the data that you have gathered so far, it will be a couple of weeks before we can arrange for the shift in position and for the training. Will this be enough time to write a synopsis and develop some materials from what you have?"

"Yes. But it won't be thorough, and there may be inaccuracies."

"We can review the material and make adjustments. Also, you can add to this, as your knowledge of Minbar grows. You will be stationed here for a while, in training with the Anla Shok. What we ask of you now is more of a priority than even the data collection you have been doing."

"I heard it from Ambassador Sinclair, now I need to hear it from you. What exactly do you ask of me?"

"Based on your war record and your…unique investigation skills and character, we recommended you as a second-in-command for Ambassador Sinclair in leading the Anla Shok."

"Who are the Anla Shok?"

"A thousand years ago, the Warrior Caste clans were fighting amongst themselves. And while they agreed that the Shadows, the creatures you saw, must be fought for the survival of Minbar, they could not agree on how do so in a united organized fashion. Valen knew there was no more time for quarreling or trying to unite them, so he left them and formed a new order composed of any Minbari who wished to fight under his orders. They were called the Anla Shok. After the Shadow War, they were not decommissioned, but took on a surveillance function. Valen said that the Shadows would return, and he had not been wrong once about anything he had already said would happen. So he gave them the task of watching for the Shadows' return, which he believed would be in a thousand years. We approach that time now."

"So they are soldiers and spies. Isn't the Warrior Caste going to have a problem with Ambassador Sinclair and I joining?"

The Satais all looked at each other. Rathenn continued. "The Warrior Caste members of the Council have agreed to allow this. They merely did not wish to be here."

"It sounds like while they may agree, they are still not happy about it. Why us? Surely there are more qualified members of the Warrior Caste?"

"We also wish to allow other Humans to join. They would almost certainly be uncomfortable at this time with leaders who were Warrior Caste. And yet, you are now trusted and respected by many Minbari. And someone who was Minbari would not have the same…perspective that you can provide."

"Why Humans? Why not Narn and Drazi and others? Why specifically Humans?"

Again they looked at one another before answering. "We believe, after our War with the Humans, that you have certain qualities and abilities that are needed here."

_The ability to be cannon fodder? _She thought suspiciously. _What a wonderfully obtuse answer._ "Why did they attack you a thousand years ago?"

Rathenn hesitated. "We do not know. We have never known this, only what they are capable of, and that they will, in fact, attack. Not just us, but other races as well. Many of the other races have suffered at their hands."

After the meeting, Havah rode back with Sinclair in silence, picking at the chapped skin on the backs of her knuckles.

"What happened back there, Havah? I saw your face. What's going on? It's not like you to jump into anything so quickly like that."

Havah didn't say anything for a minute, trying to think of whether or not to tell Sinclair, and how to tell him what she had seen without making him regret his decision to request a nut-case as his second-in-command. "I've seen those things before."

"Where?"

Havah sighed. "Well…I dreamed about them. Then I saw that man on the station a while back and I heard the same funny static noises. And I saw the air around him sort of shimmer, except I couldn't see them then."

"And?"

"And that's it. I've seen them before. The dreams always ended…badly. I know that doesn't make them bogeymen in real life, but it just makes me wonder."

"As long as you know that. We're not going to be running anywhere guns blazing, not until we know more about this race. We don't even know why they attacked the last time. For all we know it could be a similar situation to the Minbari War. They didn't know why we attacked either, and we didn't know at first what happened to make them so angry. As far as I'm concerned, the Anla Shok haven't finished watching yet."

"Understood."

"I'd also appreciate it if you would write me a report, in as much detail as possible, what you saw in that bar that night, and what your impressions were."

"Absolutely, as long as you promise not to think I'm two squirrels short of a picnic."

He smiled kindly. "Think? I already know that. And, if you are, then I think half of the Grey Council will be joining you."

When Havah returned to Katani and Sorail's house for dinner, she told them about her upcoming change in position. Katani did about the last thing Havah would have expected from any Minbari. She pulled Havah to her and hugged her, and then held her at arm's length, nodded and beamed, and walked into the pantry area to start dinner. Havah just stood stunned for a moment. Sorail, who had listened to Havah's news and watched the exchange, just nodded, smiling, and returned to his scrolls. But he wasn't paying attention to the scrolls, as much as staring thoughtfully into space.

Havah played with Nohri for a little bit. She pulled the little girl onto her lap, as Nohri tried to give Havah one of her toys and engage her in a three-year-old conversation in Minbari and make-believe words, which, after a few weeks of lessons, was just about Havah's speed. A lot of things were going to change again. Havah just sat for a few minutes, hugging Nohri and smelling baby-skin.

She woke up very early the next morning, at Nohri's hour, put on sweats and went outside in the court-yard to take up practicing kung-fu again. If she was going to join these Anla Shok, it was likely that she was going to have to pass some tests. And while two weeks would do little to improve her fitness, it would be good to start getting back in the habit of strenuous exercise. Apparently, Nohri was not the only early-riser. Before long, she had acquired a small audience of Minbari children, some of them trying to imitate her motions. One of the mothers popped her head out of a door and called to her child to stop bothering the woman trying to train. The mother looked at Havah curiously, and called again to her child, who was completely ignoring her.

After Havah finished, she went back inside to the smell of aromatic eggs. Katani put a plate loaded with food in front of her, twice as much as normal.

"You are going to need your strength in the Anla Shok training."

"That's not for two weeks at least."

"Start now. Besides, you are too thin."

_It's good to know that some stereotypes don't change from culture to culture. _Although she wasn't sure whether Katani was just living up to the motherly stereotype, or whether this was a serious warning about what she was in for with the Anla Shok. But Havah had lost weight since coming to Minbar. The food was not bad, but it had taken her time to adjust to a new diet, and there were times when she had gotten so wrapped up in studies that she had not gotten around to eating. She finished the plate under Katani's watchful eye, and thanked her. And then she secluded herself in her sleeping room with her computer to organize, analyze, and summarize the data she had collected.

Katani came to get her for meals, and Nohri came in once and plopped down in Havah's lap, demanding attention, and poking at the controls. Havah played with her for a few minutes until Sorail came and collected Nohri, and reprimanded her for pestering Havah.

She worked like this for days, practicing kung fu in the mornings in the courtyard, amidst a gaggle of curious children, and writing her thesis and materials during the day, punctuated by meals and Nohri's excursions.

After a week, Katani came in and dragged Havah from the computer, to go for a walk with her. "It is not good sitting all the time at this work. You will ruin your eyes. You must work with balance. Some computer and some fresh air. You are just like Sorail. He doesn't listen either. You will learn balance among the Anla Shok. And if you are in a position of command, you must remember this for those you command."

"Wise words. Where were you when I was working on my Masters degree?" They stopped and sat by a fountain and munched on a couple of the buns Havah had liked when she first went into Yedor. "I'm going to miss getting up and eating with you, Sorail and Nohri. She is such a cutie."

"We will miss you too, Havah. Nohri has become quite attached to you. But that just means that you must come visit when you are not training or being alyt." Katani used the term as the generic 'second-in-command', but it still sounded strange to Havah, reminiscent of the formal military address. They sat for a while, relaxing and enjoying the sounds of the water and the singing breeze. The weather was getting cooler, and the wind had strengthened in the past couple of weeks.

They headed back to the house and Katani stopped just before going in. "Dreams come to us from the Universe, Havah. They are keys. You would be wise to pay heed to yours, no matter how difficult. They can save you when you need saving." Katani touched her cheek lightly, looked hard into her eyes and went in.

_So she did hear me at night._ Havah rubbed her arms against the brisk wind, and then followed her in.

13


	12. Chapter 12

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 12—Anla Shok Training

A week and a half later, Havah presented Rathenn with some very rough drafts. She embraced Katani and Sorail and thanked them for their hospitality, and then picked Nohri up and planted a big sloppy kiss in the middle of her cheek. Nohri put her arms around Havah's neck and didn't want to let go. She sulked when her mother took her and set her down. And then Sinclair, Rathenn, and Havah left for Tuzanor, the town closest to the training camp of the Anla Shok.

It was a different town than Yedor, a mountain town. The air was at least twenty degrees colder, and the people were more home-spun. The houses were simpler, and rather than knocking down the stands of tall wind-gnarled trees, they were built around them. Very enchanting. Tuzanor was built in a nook of the mountain and the training camp began a few kilometers higher, far enough away from the town to be undisturbed and leave the townsmen undisturbed, but close enough to acquire supplies with little effort. The camp was nestled right against the slope, like the training temple on Hua mountain in China. The altitude and steep terrain assisted in acquiring endurance and agility. The barracks were built right into the slope-side, insulated by earth. There were training courses up and down the slope, areas for target practice, natural obstacle courses, and farther up, there was a plain cleared as a landing pad for transports, practice craft, and to one side, a staging area for supplies. Near the barracks was a compound, also dug into the rock-side, utilizing caves and gullies, for formal classes, such as meditation. There was, in fact, a large cavern dedicated to this class. It reminded Havah of the legendary cave used by Ta-Mo, the Buddhist founder of Shaolin kung fu. Sinclair's new quarters were off to the side of the instruction compound, as were Havah's, although smaller. The cavernous rooms were not as cold as she would have thought, insulated as they were by earth and hot mineral springs. The mountain on which Tuzanor and the Anla Shok camp was built had been an inactive volcano for thousands of years, but the heat remained in the heart of the rock.

They were greeted by the instructors, who would test them for preliminary scores, and then drill and prepare them to take their posts. There was Sech Durhan, the Warrior Caste master of the denn'bok, Sech Turval, the Religioius Caste master of meditation. They both seemed to Havah like an old married couple, constantly shooting good–natured snipes at one another, just to keep in spirit. There was Sech Hurdal, the master of interrogation and forensic investigation techniques, Sech Yurenn, master of hand to hand combat, Sech Doshoni, a female and master fighter pilot, Sech Lontal, also female and a master strategist, and a few others. They arrayed to meet their new trainees. Sinclair greeted them all with a bow, and she followed suit.

After they were settled and fed, Sech Turval explained that the preliminary testing would begin the next morning at first light. It was only to determine in what areas they most needed more training before commanding new recruits. Sinclair thanked him and they went to their respective quarters. Morning would come soon.

"Back to boot camp, soldier!" Sinclair said to her cheerfully as he disappeared into his quarters for the night. Havah sighed and unrolled her sleeping bag. She still hadn't gotten used to the tilted beds, and tonight was no time to try.

The next morning, Havah went to meet the instructors. She had been out of the military a very long time and the first thing that came to mind was Katani's comment about needing her strength. The first test was a general fitness test. She took the obstacle courses up and down the mountain and did well on everything except running. She could run for endurance, but not speed. She remembered being hollered at constantly by the drill sergeant back in basic, "Private Lassee! Are your feet glued to the ground, pick up those legs and move your lame butt! We'd all like to finish this course before I have to retire! My grandmother could outrun you, Private! Why are you here!"

As usual, her mouth had only served to make things worse. "Sir! If I could outrun anyone, I wouldn't have to learn how to fight, Sir!"

His eyes had bugged at her impertinence, as he towered over her and put his face close to hers, his breath pounding down against her forehead and ears. "What did you say to me, maggot?"

She'd repeated herself, only slightly more meekly, honestly thinking he was going to deck her.

But he stood huffing for a moment and then burst into laughter. He ran behind her for five more miles at top speed after the rest of her unit had returned to the barracks. But the Minbari instructors said nothing. Somehow that was more unnerving. Her flying was very rusty, but at least she could still fly after being shown the controls of the simulator. For the hand to hand and pike-fighting, she had to fight the masters. That was one of the most instructive and thoroughly daunting experiences she had ever had. Sech Durhan was one of the most frightening Minbari she had ever seen. He was like the old Tai Chi masters, 'when they move cannot be seen, felt but cannot be touched'. He would all but disappear in front of her and reappear somewhere she never anticipated and throw her wherever he wanted, at will. And she couldn't even touch him. It was the same with the hand-to-hand master. Her target-shooting was excellent, but she had always been a dead-shot. Her meditation skills had never been very strong, despite consistent practice. All in all, she finished the tests feeling completely deflated and certain that they would change their minds about wanting her to assist Sinclair.

Their assessment surprised her. For someone who had been out of the military for so long, she had scored better than they had expected. The strategy instructor was openly impressed, and so was the hand-to-hand instructor. Sech Durhan had even grudgingly admitted that _for a Human_, she showed unusual promise with the fighting pike.

_How could he tell? I spent the whole time on the ground or flying through the air!_ She needed training on everything, certainly meditation, flight, and most of all the pike, which, aside from some forms in kung fu, she had never encountered before. It was decided that she would spend the next few weeks, while Sinclair was gathering recruits for the next class, receiving training in all of the areas that the other recruits would. At the end she would spend the customary nine nights out in the mountains. That final training and initiation mission would be to take, hold and deliver a message given her from one of the veteran Anla Shok to a contact at another point, while hunted. And as the first new class was being trained, she would receive training in command, which had been lacking in her short military tour. Sinclair would be trained in the use of the denn bok, the signature weapon of the Anla Shok. But his training would be abbreviated, since he had come to them from a command position, and he required less polishing. She readied herself for training.

After the first day of training, the news came. Havah was in the meditation room, trying to control her body heat when a robed Minbari entered and spoke under his breath to Sech Turval. Though it was otherwise silent in the room, and Havah's ears were very good, she could not hear what was said. Sech Turval frowned and looked solemn, and then turned to Havah who was watching his face, and admonished her for not focusing on her meditation.

That evening, Sinclair told her what had happened to warrant Turval's expression. Delenn had been removed from the Grey Council, and Neroon had been appointed in her place. If Delenn's removal was not of enough concern, the situation was further complicated by Neroon's obvious dislike of Humans, and by the fact that his appointment now meant that there were now four members of the Warrior Caste on the Council instead of three. This configuration had never existed in the thousand-year history of the Council, primarily because the original design was supposed to achieve balance between the castes. At another time this configuration may not have been so alarming, but in light of the fissure between the Religious and Warrior Castes, this skew in favor of the Warrior Caste could be construed as preparation for a coup de tat. And there was the small matter that it had been predicted by Valen, that this unbalancing would occur before the Council was broken and disbanded. The Minbari's current age had just darkened. It was very possible that the days of the Council were numbered, and who knew what would arise to fill that vacuum.

_This could not be happening at a worse time_, Havah thought. _If these Shadows are everything that we fear, everything that the Minbari faced a thousand years ago, we are going to be in a great deal of trouble as it is. But we don't stand a chance if the Minbari sink into civil war. You can't fight enemies on two fronts. A house divided cannot stand. Those words meant nothing to us as kids in a classroom. They mean everything now._ She supposed the situation was not much different than the one Valen faced then. That was why the Anla Shok was founded. Except that then, the Warrior Caste at least believed the possibility of the threat was real.

After laying awake that night, Havah became distracted in her already grueling training. During her next session, Sech Lontal, the strategist currently training her in covert operations, addressed her preoccupation. "You must focus on what is now, rather than dwell on what may occur. There is nothing you can do about that situation as it stands, and to spend time on it at the expense of your training is a waste of resources and an exercise of poor logic. If the Grey Council should fall, the Anla Shok as an institution must survive. And whatever is in that future, you must be prepared to help Sinclair. It is the only way. Now pay attention."

"Le', Na!" _Yes, Ma'am!_ The address Na typically meant First, when there was a title or station before it, but by itself doubled for 'Sir', or in this case, 'Ma'am'. Havah liked this woman. She said precisely what she meant, and nothing more or less. Strange for a covert operative, whose business was involved in things that were not as they appeared. Havah forced herself to concentrate.

But the following nights she still laid awake long, ruminating on situations she couldn't change, and mourning the dwindling likelihood that she would ever be able to have a relationship with her father, or that she could ever even tell him who she was. By the look of things, maybe that was for the best. She threw herself into her training with the fervor born of sublimating anguish. Her teachers, for their part, encouraged her concentration and enthusiasm, with delight. But they knew, as teachers often do, that it came from a dark place, one that they could not touch unless Havah should choose to let them. So they waited quietly.

Sech Durhan continued to disarm her and beat her to the ground at will. But he remarked to Sech Turval, out of the Humans' earshot, of course. "Both Sinclair and Lassee are making great progress. It is possible that Humans have more potential than I would have thought, after the War. Or _perhaps_ it is possible that the Religious Caste's supposition that _some_ Humans may have Minbari souls may have been true in a couple of isolated cases. Previous knowledge might be sufficient to explain the students' developing talent."

Sech Turval smiled wickedly. "Is that an admission that we might have been correct?"

"Absolutely not, you white-robed pil'ta! It was merely the consideration of an alternative explanation!" He harrumphed and stalked away, leaving Turval smirking at the mild slur 'Book worm!'

If sessions with Sech Durhan had been frustrating, they were nothing to the paces Sech Turval put her through. He was an elderly, kind-faced man, and also the strictest most demanding teacher she had ever known.

_Like Yoda on growth hormones,_ she thought miserably.

As she tried for about the three-hundredth time to lower her heart rate and drop her breathing into fal-seh, a meditative state, Sech Turval stood and watched her intently. She could feel his eyes boring through her. He spoke suddenly. "Miss Lassee, you will never achieve any state of meditation as long as your mind is elsewhere, turned in upon itself. What is happening in the outside world cannot impose upon your consciousness. You must let things be as they are."

She sighed and dropped her eyes into her lap, defeated. She said nothing.

After a moment, Sech Turval studied her pursed features. "There is more?"

She didn't answer him at first. He just waited, hands clasped in front of him. She drew breath and sighed again. "Na…What if you…what if your father didn't know who you were and you wanted to tell him but you knew that he would only hate you or at least be ashamed of you? What would you do, how would you…live with that? And, and on top of that, he had done something that really bothered you too, something very terrible."

He thought for a moment, trying to answer both the question she had asked and the ones she was not asking. "First, you cannot be certain of what your father would think unless you know him and talk to him. People cannot always be predicted. They can however, fulfill our expectations of them. Second, even if he should be ashamed, his shame does not touch you if you have done nothing for it. Your actions speak for you. You own your honor and your being. What he feels or thinks and what he does, belongs to him, not to you. Do not confuse the two. Blood is important, but it does not determine your path. Of course all children want their parents' love and respect, but while you must respect them for your life, they cannot decide your name or your heart for you. In the same way, they must follow their own path and do what they believe is right. Whether you agree or not, and whether you choose to accept them or not, is up to you."

Havah thought hard about the hypothetical answer to the hypothetical question. She closed her eyes and resumed trying to meditate again.

It was the longest most strenuous few weeks Havah had ever lived through, and the last nine days were the longest of all. Havah awoke at the prescribed hour of three, feeling like stones had filled her gullet while she slept, not that she had slept much. It was the morning of the Mission, the final exercise of Anla Shok trainees, a symbol of their new-found expertise. She was to deliver a real message, and she would be hunted by veteran Anla Shok the entire way, who would try to acquire the content of the message by any means they could. She was terrified. Her small bag was packed with the equipment she had been given the night before, a knife, simple map of the mountain ranges, a small directional light crystal, a time-piece, and enough rations for three days. The deliverance of the message should take nine.

She entered the chamber of the compound where Sech Turval already waited. His face was like alabaster in the dim light. He solemnly handed her the data crystal and instructed her on the coordinates and showed her the person to whom the message was to be delivered. It was to go to another Anla Shok called Tirhan, who would be expecting the message in the Cave of Hatari. That cave was somewhere on the farthest peak of the long mountain range. No two missions were alike. They were all determined by some real task that needed doing, so the fledgling Anla Shok were given these tasks as an initiation into the reality of the sect. Each new recruit would take a necessary message that otherwise would have simply been sent or even linked, to the necessary person. It was not always to the same place or the same person, and it was never the same message. The person to whom the message was to be delivered did not have to stay in the assigned place. He or she could make things difficult and disappear, changing the plan. This would force the recruit to track or even 'rescue' the contact in order to deliver the message, all the while evading capture. If captured, the recruit would have to escape. And if the message was not in physical form, if it was in the form of memory, the hunters were qualified and sanctioned to try to gain the information using terror, deceit, espionage, and even torture. No recruit could actually be physically harmed during torture, but this did not rule out the use of pain. The mission ended when the message was delivered, and was forfeit if the enemy acquired the message in any way. Those who successfully completed the mission were inducted. Those who did not, had one more opportunity to do so after completing the weeks of training again. If they still did not pass, then they were barred entrance to the Anla Shok, and returned home. The second test for repeaters, was harder than the first. This had only happened a few of times in the history of Anla Shok training, and was a source of great disgrace for those who failed. These thoughts cycled relentlessly through Havah's brain as she set out into the mountains.

0310 hours—Speed was an imperative. Havah would have three hours on her pursuers. Thankfully, although she had always been a terrible sprinter, she was passable at long distance running. Her top long-distance speed, at which she was running now, was about five miles an hour. She set herself a comfortable but hasty speed, located an animal trail, and focused on putting as much distance between her and the compound as possible.

0600 hours—She had to figure at this time that she had put about 15 miles between herself and the hunters. They would be leaving now, if they had not already. She unsheathed her knife and looked around. She had no idea how fast they would be, only that they were seasoned trackers, if not masters of their craft. She could not afford to be seen at all. She searched the ground and picked up little twigs and bunches of leaves and stripped bark, yards away from the trail she was on, and affixed them to her coat, crafting a ghillie suit. The Minbari had a strong sense of smell, and the pungent aroma of the evergreen leaves, boughs, and decaying vegetation were likely to at least partially mask her scent. She resumed her run, keeping to low rock faces and streams. A light snow began to fall, drifting down onto her head like wispy feathers, until they were melted by her heat into a net of dewdrops.

0600 hours—The teams of Anla Shok departed, fanning out slightly, three sets of teams, three Anla Shok to each team. There were four animal trails. Their quarry was likely to take one of them. This was the first Human ever to make this mission, and the trackers were both excited and curious. Humans had been unexpectedly dangerous during the War, and that was the one thing they could count on now. Naal, the commander of the first set of three, recalled uncomfortably the tales reported from the Warrior Caste, of Havah's disguised massacre of the soldiers on Proxima Three. First they had to find her.

1100 hours—The snow was coming heavier now, in swaths of white. But there was not enough wind, and still not enough snow to cover the tracks she would make in the accumulation. She slowed down and pulled a branch from her ghillie suit and brushed away her tracks as she went. Nervous about the skill of her hunters, she took a few minutes to lay down false tracks in a right angle from her true direction. She still brushed the tracks, but left them more obvious and, after a distance, left a long black hair caught in the cross of an overhanging branch. She doubled back to her original position and kept running through the night, and the next day, eating tiny portions of her rations on the way. Where the areas of snow were too difficult to brush away without being obvious, she climbed the trees and raced along the interlacing branches, or brachiated, until she almost slipped and fell.

1430 hours—The snow was thickening, but Naal discerned a spot on the trail where someone had passed. It was not obvious. He followed it for a little while, after contacting the other two, and was rewarded with a black Human hair. Lassee. A moment later, he realized that the trail did not continue on, but doubled back in a loop. It had been a ploy to throw them off her trail. He grimaced with aggravation for having let himself succumb to such a trick, but smiled inwardly. At least she would be the challenge they had hoped for. Training had not been wasted on the Human.

1230 hours, Day Three—Havah had come almost 93 miles by dead reckoning, running or traveling by tree throughout the night again, after a brief pause to eat almost the last of her rations. Now she would have to add the search for food to her time, or go without, for the remaining miles. She was getting very tired, and perhaps because of this, she was not wary enough in her passage to avoid startling the large animal hiding at the edge of a snow bank she was passing. Its sudden movement caused a small snow-fall that she leapt to avoid. An edge of it caught a tiny twig from her suit and half buried it in the fall. She did not notice its absence, and kept going.

1230 hours Day Three—Lassee had lost them. Naal was annoyed. They had managed to track what they thought had been her trail, but there was now no sign of her at all, nothing but fresh snow. Just as he was about to double back to where he thought may have been a divergence, a faint motion caught his attention on the side of the next peak. It was barely visible, white against white, a small cascade of snow from a startled animal. He just caught sight of the flight of the animal. But it was worth investigating. What had startled the animal?

1700 hours—Naal approached the pile of snow. He stepped gingerly, peering intently around. A discoloration caught his attention. He looked closer and then reached into the snow and pulled out a sliver of twig. He inspected it. The end had been pulled off, not broken. It was a green twig. She had been here. He broke into a wide smile, and located her trail easily, directing his team.

1700 hours—At her next small rest, she realized that it would be wise to more precisely measure her path. She had been eyeballing the position of the sun and stars, when visible through the snow clouds, and trying to calculate her distance by the speed she thought she was going, and by the timepiece, using the map as a traverse board. But now, she took the bough out of her cloak that she had been using to brush away her tracks. It could double as a cross-staff. She sliced approximate inch-marks into the side of the staff. There were fibrous vine-shoots roping some of the trees and she used these to lace a green twig to the cross-staff for slide measurement. This was part of their Anla Shok history. The Star Riders had developed quite advanced systems of celestial navigation very early in clan history. The cross-staff was extremely rudimentary, the earliest and most basic of devices in many cultures, including Human, but it was all she could come up with or had the means to use now. And it was time to be off again.

0200 hours, Day Four—Havah was exhausted and freezing. Her body temperature had dropped dangerously. If she did not raise her core body temperature, she would lose the circulation in her extremities, followed by the slow creep of frostbite. She went back the way she had come, a short way to another trail. She went down it a few feet and ran to the edge of a large burrough. She pulled snow-covered boughs from the surrounding area over it, and returned by a different route to her starting point, found a hidden grove of trees and stand of bushes to shroud her, and forced herself to sit down among them and meditate. This had always been the worst of her skills, and she struggled with it even more now. But she focused, and it came slowly, a rising heat from her center, filling the capillaries in her fingers and face, suffusing her with a slight warmth. She continued to concentrate, now on letting her mind rest. If she did not rest, the slow freeze would come back as soon as she returned to her normal state. She had finally managed the rising of heat or cold in class, but the relaxation had been the greatest challenge. Slowly her mind relaxed, but as the night waned, her consciousness slipped beyond meditation into dream.

0400 hours—The coldest, darkest hour, and what happened next could have been a dream, except that she knew it was not. There was no detectable sound, nothing to key her in on the presence of another being, but an eerie sense. It could have been the short pause in the chattering of a rodent nearby, it could have been nothing at all but her own nerves. A slight breath of motion reached her a nanosecond before she jerked awake and rolled to the left side just missing the fall of a heavy net, as a black figure appeared like mist through the trees nearest her. She felt the whistle of an object in the air past her. The heavy thud that barely missed her in the spot where she had been a second earlier showed a depression in the ground like the end of a denn bok. It would have broken bones if it had connected with her body. There was a slight whine in her right ear as she grabbed the edge of the net and heaved it across the shifting silhouettes bearing down on her, ensnaring them. There were three pine needles protruding from the trunk in front of her. Except that there was something strange about them and the rigidity with which they stuck from the trunk. She grabbed them, realizing that they were darts, skillfully crafted to look like long slender fir needles. She avoided the tips, realizing that they were probably tipped with a soporific. As the shadows slid out of the net, she threw the darts at each of them, just as the third figure who had thrown the net leaped down upon her from the tree above where he had been perched. Havah hip-checked him and ran, not wanting to waste any more valuable energy on a fight, and remembering the trap she had left. But he gained easily. She could almost feel his fingers touching twigs on her suit as she ran, phantom-like behind her. She reached the burrough and leapt away from him and over the cover of boughs. His legs cracked through the fragile dry twigs and he fell into a deep hole. Havah rushed about and tossed brambles and stinging plants into the aperture on top of the thrashing figure. She turned and ran, her hands burning with poison. She passed two unconscious figures and kept running. Her damn cat-nap had almost cost her the mission!

0400 hours—The trail led them to this grove, but Lassee was nowhere to be seen. They scanned the brakes silently, and finally Jodat motioned to a close-knit grove of trees and a pack of shrubs. There were a few leaves sticking out that didn't appear like the others, the wrong species. It was her. She didn't move, and gave no indication of having seen them. Jodat slipped into the trees above the brake and Naal and Niseni concealed themselves among more shrubbery. She had fallen asleep. Too easy. That was a fatal mistake for many, and Naal was almost disappointed that it should end so. Well, she was still Human after all. They had less stamina than Minbari. Jodat dropped the net as Naal and Niseni began to move. She moved a fraction of a second before the net touched her, and slid out of its reach, and out of the reach of his denn bok, as it blurred toward her body. Niseni's darts whirred by the Human's head, brushing the edge of her hair. Lassee seized the net and cast it over him and Niseni before either of them realized what her tactic would be. She was incredibly fast. He had never seen her in motion before. As they struggled to free themselves, she plucked Niseni's darts from the trunk in which they were embedded and hurled them with pinpoint accuracy back at them. He felt a slight prick and stared wide-eyed at Niseni, and knew Lassee's dart had hit her too. They had done what he had sworn they wouldn't do, underestimate the Human, and she had surprised them. She threw off Jodat as he came down from the tree, as though he weighed no more than a tree branch, and streaked away from him. He gave chase. Naal and Niseni groggily freed themselves from the net to assist Jodat. As they slipped into drugged unconsciousness, Naal's thoughts were mingled: damaged pride in his skill, now bested by a greenhorn Human, new pride in the training Lassee had displayed, training given by their sect, and a new admiration for the unexpected strength of Humans. Jodat almost had her. She was not a fast runner. She compensated by bobbing, weaving and trying to pull branches in his way, but he was close enough to smell her through the leaves she wore. The only danger would be for her to turn on him suddenly in confrontation. So he readied himself. She leapt clear over a pad of branches. She had lost more speed in this move. But as his foot trod the far edge of the leaves, it slid down the edge of a hole that had been concealed. Despite his twist in mid-air, the rest of his body followed and he tumbled into an burrough. He hoped it was abandoned. But he had no time to ponder this, because as soon as he began trying to ascend the rock outcroppings, bushels of pricker and stinging plants rained down on him and he was forced to protect his eyes, as the poisoned thorns raised welts all over his face and neck. Like Naal, Jodat felt a mixture of admiration for her technique, and fury as he picked briars from his clothing and nursed the hives swelling his face.

0700, Day Four—She was starving. Her rations were gone. Rather than waste time hunting, she easily located some wood grubs in few fallen trunks. They were wriggly, and gelatinous, but non-toxic, and full of protein. And as long as she was in the forest, there was an endless supply of them. All plans came to a screeching halt when she arrived at a dry ravine. She searched along the carpeted ridge and finally found the remnants of an old rope bridge. She hauled up the half that dangled down the cliff face to find that the ropes had been cut. She laid back, still holding the edges of the rope and let snow fall into her mouth, while she contemplated her next move. Nothing moved but the snow and wind, as she started down the slope.

2000 hours—Into nightfall, she found herself walled in by high ridges on either side, facing a bog that was not noted by the map, a bowl hollowed by some retreating glacier in another age. Much of the Minbari northern and southern regions were still covered in glacier. Their arctic regions were far more extensive than on Earth, and the glaciers were returning, but they had not yet come back to this region. It was a broad bog and, while dangerous, would also not be likely to leave many tracks because of the springy peat-like substrate and water. There was nowhere else to go unless she wanted to scale the cliffs, and she liked those odds even less than the thought of drowning in the tannic water. And she had to admit a certain clinical fascination with the environment of bogs, such a weird mixture of plants and animals. Like Earth bogs, this one was an eerie place at night, lit by little colored lights that had been dubbed Will-o-the-Wisps on Earth. She wondered if the Minbari had a name for them, undulating candles of methane that seemed alive. When she looked more closely, she realized that some of the glowing flickers were in fact alive. Unlike Earth, the bog was teeming with bioluminescence: insects, and plants. Huge lovely nightflower blossoms waved by the light of the stars which had come out. The long trumpet shapes had honey-sweet scent and appeared to be covered with phosphorescent dew. She watched as a large night-bird lit on the edge and dipped its beak into the cone. Almost instantly the petals closed around the bird, far tougher than they appeared, and glued themselves shut as the bird struggled, squeaking, against constriction, as it slowly dissolved in the flower's juices. _Carnivorous plants_, Havah thought, and refrained from sticking her face so close to the petals. _I wonder how big they can eat?_ She trod carefully. Every step she took seemed to send a tremble to some farther point, like stepping on a raft. She picked her way meticulously, noting every quiver of the ground, every flit of creature in the corner of her eye, every ghostly wink of leaf-blade and diaphanous wing, and listened to every click, grunt, and whine. When she was halfway across, she dropped to her knees on the soggy carpet, as a high pitched shriek filled the air all around her, followed by a sobbing moan. It sounded like the maniacal scream of a loon, until she saw the creature that emitted it, before it slid into the water. It was a small amphibian, like a salamander. After pulling herself back together, she trod on. At least she would probably feel it if another being like a Human or Minbari were to step onto the mat of moss, just as everything on this expanse could probably feel her presence.

0500 hours, Day Six—Havah traversed the last mile of bog as the air turned deep ocean blue with coming dawn. She had reached a line of trees at the other end of the bowl. She turned and looked back the way she came. The pixie-lights bobbed and danced in the periwinkle, lit by the phantom glow of the moon-blossoms. An animal gave a mournful call and was answered in kind by another, halfway across the dark peat. A pair of gossamer insect wings brushed her ear, purring. It was a beautiful night place. She would have liked to linger if there had been time. She headed into the mantle of trees and brush, and was suddenly startled to a halt a few minutes in, by a low growl. It was not a friendly sound. In the darkness of brush, she could only make out a hulking shape and shining eyes. Havah froze as the animal extended its head in threat, flattening its ears and baring its fangs. She began to make out its shape in the gloom, as the air seemed to lighten minute by minute. It was a gokar, distant wild relative of the gokh. The recruits had been warned of these animals. Far from their semi-domesticated diminutive relatives, the gokari were known as one of the more ferocious predators of the northern forests. Havah had seen one once before, in a depiction. It looked, for all her imagination, like a cross between a black tiger, and a bear…a Minbear, she had dubbed it. Except it had gleaming green-gold eyes and despite its bulk, moved like a great cat instead of with the ponderous gait of the ursine species of Earth. And it had opposable thumbs and the ability to climb trees after prey, given a large enough tree. It could simply shake prey down from the smaller ones, or pluck them out with its rough hands. A desperate plan formed in her mind, as it slowly, sinuously advanced towards her, blocking her path out. It was a woodland creature, and trees were not an option for her escape. The best shot she had was to slow it down on the bog. Its bulk made travel on the peat raft ungainly and slow. She would have the advantage of lighter weight there…at least for a few moments. She let it push her back and hoped that it wouldn't pounce too soon. She couldn't match its speed on land. As she reached the edge of the swamp, it crouched and sprung, just as she dashed across the hummocks. It fell angrily into stagnant water, sending a quake across the bowl. Havah almost lost her footing but jumped another hummock and threw the last dart she had, from the encounter with the team earlier, praying she wouldn't miss. The sleeper-dart embedded itself in the creature's thick hide. It hadn't occurred to her until now though, that there may not be enough poison in the tip to fell a beast of such mass. She kept running, and it gave clumsy but terrifyingly swift chase, as Havah reeled from the vibrations of its weight. It gained until she felt its weight shift into the crouch for the pounce that would take down its prey. The soporific had failed. Then, instead of leaping, it resumed its run, slower than before. After an interminable time, it gave up pursuit, moaned a final time deep in its throat, and collapsed onto its belly, haunches under its huge torso. Havah gave it a wide berth and after about forty-five minutes, returned to the treeline. Her heart was still thundering and her knees trembling. Despite the awkwardness of its loping gait on the bog, its near-silence had been the most terrifying aspect of its chase. She reached the ridge, crouched and looked down into the valley. There was a small town nestled there in the distance. She would have to risk discovery in the town, because she didn't know the whereabouts of her destination, just a vague description. And it was possible that the name of the cave given by the Anla Shok, might be known by a different name here.

1230 hours—She got to the edge of town in mid-day, hunkered in the trees, waited and watched. A few flyers flitted here and there and then Havah spotted something that could give her cover, a family of Human tourists. She was not going to be able to conceal her Humanness, but if there were even a couple tourists there, her chances were better for passing without too much attention. Thankfully, her Anla Shok gear was nondescript. She pulled off all the brush, gathered her long hair into high girlish pigtails on the crown of her head, and headed down. A big mischievious grin split her face as she waved exuberantly at the first person she saw and pranced by. An older Minbari man, he beamed and waved back. She wandered into the common area, amidst a couple of glances, and sidled over to a lawn and sat down on a large rock by a stream running through the town, near which a number of Minbari were seated, taking their lunch. Any one of them could be Anla Shok posing as locals. She had no food and the sight and smell of the picnickers were driving her mad. So she bumped her heels incessantly against the rock she sat on, feigning the coltish energy of a young traveler newly away from her parents. The gnawing hunger certainly aided in the appearance of restlessness. Widening her eyes, she peered around as if she were completely lost. A young man in a long mountain coat took notice.

"Pardon me, miss, are you lost? Do you speak Grey by any chance?" He spoke politely in Minbari, hoping she did as well. This was the Minbari Worker Caste dialect, and most commonly spoken among Humans attempting to learn. He continued haltingly in English. "I…I not…speak Human…good." He sighed and gestured as Havah feigned a vapid stare.

After her months of study, she now understood and spoke Grey and the other languages quite fluently, but as this would give her away, she giggled and answered in very broken Minbari, like a tourist desperately trying to grace the locals with her effort. "I…ummmm…speak…ummmm…little Minbari…" She used the broad term for the languages, as though she had no clue about any differences, and tittered again. "I ummm" She stuck her finger in the edge of her mouth and sucked on it while groping for the word "…like climbing." She finished triumphantly and twirled her pigtail coquettishly, still giggling awkwardly.

He smiled back and moved in closer. In Grey, he said, "There are many peaks." He said. She stared dumbly at him. He shook his head and motioned to the peaks with his hands.

A look of comprehension bloomed on her face, as she stuttered in Grey. "Ohhh…What about…waterfalls? I heard…ummmm…about big cave behind waterfall…north peak." She grinned.

He pursed his forehead in frustration. "I am not familiar with this place." At her puzzled look, he shook his head and held up his hands, sorely disappointed that he could not help the stranger further. "Wait here, I'll ask someone." He signed to her to stay seated, while he went and got the information for her, and rushed off.

She slid off of the rock and meandered about small shops, looking around her to make sure she was not recognized. The young man came up to her about a half an hour later and exclaimed in halting English, that he had found the place she was looking for. "It is…on…next peak to…north." He pointed. "We call…'glamo she' hran', in Grey. It mean…Water Hidden Hole…in English." His brow darkened. "It is…difficult ground."

She grinned widely and innocently at him, and answered in English. "I am a very good climber. I'll be ok."

He frowned again. She certainly looked athletic, but she was so young. As she spoke, there was a tone of unquestionable authority. Her eyes were not as young as her face. They bored into him. She would brook no followers. He sighed. _Athletes_, he thought. _They are the same on every world, it seems._ There had been a few other Human tourists a few days ago wanting to brave the highest, most treacherous peak to the far north. _Or perhaps it is the Human bravado I have heard about, even in the young women._

She gave him a big hug, and tried again in broken Minbari. "I thank you…so much…for help! I be ok!" She lavished him with a kiss on the cheek.

"I am Hodann." He blushed at the kiss and hug. Before he could be tempted further, she wheeled away lightly. He shifted from foot to foot and padded back to the stream dejectedly. Havah headed as fast as she could out of the town. She had to make haste. If the Anla Shok went there, or had been there, and he spoke of her, suspicion might be aroused.

1200 hours, Day Five—Selain and his team were growing exasperated. They had not even caught the slightest hint of the Human. She must be nearing her destination now. They did not even have an idea of the target yet. Humiliating. Selain paused. If they could only figure out her destination…Something had been nagging at his memory for the past three days. Something he had seen at headquarters in the compound. Anla Shok Tirhan had been there for a few days before they left. He had apparently been recalled from one of the outposts in the Euphrates Sector. Why now? He had gone to ask his old friend, only to find his friend had been dispatched again, to re-stock the secondary base. He had contacted the base. No one was there, at least not yet. But Tirhan should have been there already. Selain had then gone into old message files and found that the coordinates to which his ship was charted were a few miles south-west of the base. This was not so uncommon as long as one did not wish the base to be discovered, in the event that an Anla Shok believed he might be followed, or if he was meeting someone…The Human. This was the mission. He was involved in the testing, and was to receive either an inventory or reconstruction plans, or a manifest for the re-manning of the base from the recruit. He knew the point to which Tirhan had gone. His team would beat her there. He notified the rest of his team and they picked up speed for the cave.

1500 hours, Day Eight—Selain had the luck to see Tirhan before the grizzled ranger saw him. It was as he suspected. He sent Mudenn and Selnet to surround the target. It would be a fight. Tirhan had already suspected an ambush as part of the exercise, and had keener hearing than even most other Anla Shok. He had heard something and his pike whispered open. After elaborate evasions, several long heated bouts and then a near-escape, the target was in custody. Winded, two members of the team and the target were all fighting gleeful grins. This was as much an exercise to hone their skills, as it was a test for the new recruit. It was a prisoner's obligation to escape, so the game was not over yet between them, as they waited for the Human, listening to Tirhan growl that he was getting too old for this. After a day of the game, as the time for Havah's likely arrival grew near, they ended the bandy between them and collaborated in the interest of the recruit's test. Tirhan listened to the team's plan, and gave the passphrase in approval, agreeing to continue to play victim, and grinning evilly. Selain activated the net and prepared himself to meet the recruit.

0730 hours, Ninth Day—Havah had traveled for two and a half days since the village. The terrain had been treacherous, as Hodann had warned. However, she was rewarded with the sight, not only of her destination, but of one of the most beautiful grottos she had ever seen, even snow-laden. The boughs, twigs and remaining leaves of the surrounding trees and plants were encased in sparkling sheaths of ice, a pateen of frozen dew. Blue icicles hung from shelves of rock and made the partially frozen falls luminescent. Live turbulent water churned around, through and under the ice and snow, and cascaded to a deep pool and stream. It must be grandiose in the warm season, green and misted. She edged along the shelf behind the largest fall, breathing its chilly vapor deeply, and slid into the concealed cavern. Using her light crystal, she crept along branching tunnels until she got to one of the smaller caverns where she expected to meet her contact. He was there, looking down on her from a high rock shelf.

"It seems the wind has started to pick up outside. The weather trackers say there is a gale forming across the Eastern sea. But it will not be here for some time yet." He said, hopping down from the ledge. _I am the person whom you seek. I am alone._

She approached him. "I am out from the far north. Nothing going on there yet, but I have rain gear. The wind doesn't seem bad yet." _I am the person whom you are waiting for. I have the data. I have not been followed._ She took out the crystal she was supposed to deliver. She peered at the man, lit by the dim corona of her light crystal. He looked like the man to whom she was supposed to deliver the message, a kind-faced older Anla Shok, with a brindled beard, hooked nose and deep crow's feet around sharp hazel eyes. But she paused. There was a strange twinge at the back of her neck and in her gut. Fear. She didn't know what subconscious cue alerted her that something was wrong. It was just a feeling. The man looked slightly surprised and disgruntled as she backed off slightly, before she could hide her reaction. But she recovered, and held out the data crystal to him. As he stepped inside her range to take it, she wheeled down into a tiger-tail sweep with her right leg, catching both of his legs and sweeping him to the ground on his back. Unlike the soldiers she had encountered in the eatery, he was far more trained and far faster, despite middle-age. Like a feline without a spine, he kipped up gracefully to his feet and started to rise. She trapped the crook of his knee with her right foot, sending him to one knee with his back facing her. In one step, she chopped down on the nerve bundle on either side of his neck, just below the head-bone. And he lost consciousness. His image shifted and melted into another face. It was not the man whom she was supposed to meet, but a stranger. Another Anla Shok. It had been a trap. How had he done this? Quickly, she searched him and found the answer. A changeling net! _But these are outlawed? Aren't they?_ Puzzled, she looked at the nodules. There were two wristlets, two anklets, a belt, and a necklace, a network of hologram-producing fibers. This was one member of one of the three teams out to find her. Even if she were to assume that only one team had followed her, where were the other two members? And where was her contact? This man had spoken the passphrase. He could only have gotten it through her contact, which meant that the other two members of the team had him, unless he had escaped. Telepathy was not allowed in the game. That had been specified. But they had said nothing of devices like changeling nets. She hadn't even known they possessed them. An evil thought occurred to her. If they used these devices in this game, then so could she. _Just like Proxima Three! Lets see how you do the second time around, boys!_ She slipped on the equipment, turned it on, and scanned the unmasked Ranger lying before her. The net came alive around her, enveloping her body in a veil of electrostatic energy. It tingled at first, but after a few minutes, the constant tugging of the energy became itchy and then painful, as the light radiation seeped into her skin. _No wonder no one uses them, what an icky feeling!_ Not to mention how dangerous they could be with prolonged and repeated exposure. But, this would not be long…hopefully. She dragged the unconscious Ranger and hid him behind a rock shelf. She found the other two members of the team, and her real contact about fifteen minutes later. He was bound and sat between a large-boned woman with a broad face, and a tall man. She nodded to the contact, and spoke to the woman, her vocal chords distorted. "You may as well untie him. The recruit failed." She held up the crystal. "It's over." The two stared at her with surprise, and, to Havah's satisfaction, not a little disappointment.

The tall Ranger spoke. "I must admit, as much as I don't want to, that I did not expect her to fail!"

The woman added sardonically. "This has been an enjoyable exercise, yes. What a shame, the first Human!" She sighed and untied the contact, who stood and rubbed his wrists and ankles and rose, frowning. "Well, I do hope that she tries again!"

Havah smiled and nodded. "Perhaps you can come and tell her that. She is quite unhappy. She was too ashamed to come with me, so she remains where we met." Havah nodded to the Rangers. "Perhaps you should give us a few moments, I would like a chance to speak with her."

"She should not feel ashamed. Part of our order is persistence. Let me speak with her as well." The woman followed Havah into the passage. She stepped into the cavern and as she turned to look for the missing recruit, Havah chopped the same nerve bundle on the woman's neck as on her team member. Havah returned to the edge of the passage to wait. By now, the static of the net was excruciatingly irritating. It was like lying in the strong sun for hours. Her skin vibrated and burned slightly, but so deep in the tissues that she wanted to scream and rip it all off. She listened, and when she heard them approaching, she began talking to herself, so that they would hear someone speaking and assume a normal conversation. "Remember what I said earlier, you will have an opportunity to try again, Miss Lassee. It is not such a shame to fail once." Luckily the tall Ranger was the first to round her corner. She punched him in the jaw as hard as she could, knowing what it took to knock out a Minbari with sheer force. Mercifully, he dropped, having been unprepared for the assault. Tirhan stared at her as she finally shut off the infernal net, doing a squirmy dance pulling off the hateful nodules, throwing them to the ground and scratching and rubbing her body and head, ruffling all her hair, trying desperately to get rid of the itch. He burst into such hard laughter he had to lean against the wall to catch his breath, and spoke the passphrase amidst gasps for air. "The wind…*gasp*…has picked up outside…The weather trackers said a gale has formed across the Eastern sea." He clutched his side again, amidst another deep-belly laugh. "But you need not fear the storm."

Havah was done with this. "I believe this is yours." She held out the crystal and he took it, grinning widely at her.

"Thank you, Havah Lassee. But I believe that you have incapacitated your ride back to the base!" He laughed again and nodded at the tall Ranger slowly rising to his feet, rubbing his jaw. The man smiled at her and the two men bowed to her. "Congratulations, Anlashok Lassee. You have passed the trial." The tall man said softly. And then looked about the cavern, noting the female Ranger stirring. Selain stood and came over, his expression a mix of pleasant surprise and chagrin, nodding to the nodules scattered helter-skelter at Havah's feet. "You used my trick against my team!"

The female Ranger called over, "Yes, and we were amateur enough to succumb to it, even after knowing that she had pulled almost the same trick at Proxima Three sans the technology." She stood, smiled and bowed to Havah, sighing.

Maybe they would now answer Havah's questions about the 'technology'. "How did you come to have a changeling net? I thought they were illegal."

"They are outlawed for certain interactions, yes. But within a single organization among its own members with explicit stipulations on its use within the by-laws of that organization, selective use may be sanctioned dependant upon circumstance. You see, we only use it for training purposes, and then only occasionally. Typically, the use is reserved for second-time recruits, because it is more difficult to evade. But it was a tool given to us to use on this mission and so we used it. It appears that we were to test you quite thoroughly. It is used to teach attention to instinct and fear. What made you decide that I was not who I appeared to be?"

"I don't know. Instinct, I guess, like you said. I just had a bad feeling."

"Sometimes that is all you will get. And you must know when it is a true feeling and obey it, or recognize when it is not, when it is merely an unquiet mind."

Havah nodded. "But aren't these things dangerous? The radiation, I mean?" Havah was still uneasy about the feeling it had left in her skin.

"It is, over long periods of time and if there is repeated use. But we rarely use this one, and only for short periods of time. Also, our technicians have been working on it, and the output of radiation is only very slight, not as much as it feels." He said reassuringly. "It will leave no damage for the short time we have used it. But you will see the physician upon return, and she will confirm that. We should leave now. It is getting late in the day, and I suspect that you are hungry and tired."

Tirhan spoke. "I will attend to this." He held up the data crystal. "It was a pleasure to engage in this trial, Anlashok Lassee. Come with me and we will go to the flyer waiting for you all." They left the caverns and grotto and hiked a few miles to another set of caverns, concealed in next mountain-side, the secondary base.

Selain explained to Havah, as they walked in. "I figured out where you were headed when I learned that Tirhan was to restock and make ready the secondary base. And so then, I also knew what was on the data crystal you carried and where he would meet you to retrieve it. Manifests, inventory lists, and plans." The woman gave Havah her rations, so that she could eat in the transport and they could be on their way. If Havah never saw another wood grub again it would be too soon. They boarded the small flyer and were back at the original base in a day. Havah dozed the whole way.

No sight in the world was as welcome as the forbidding front face of the rock compound. Sech Turval's face lit up when she walked in, bedraggled. He fetched a blanket, food and drink, and left her to eat it in peace, before he allowed Havah to report. After finishing the meal, she gave her report in as minute detail as she could, beginning with, "I ate bugs…"

Sech Turval smiled tolerantly.

17


	13. Chapter 13

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 13—Becoming Alyt

The Anla Shok induction ceremony was simple and short. Havah was dressed in formal uniform, as was Sinclair. He had already been inducted as Entilzah, the leader of the Rangers. So it was he, with the instructors in attendance, who pinned the symbol of the Anla Shok to Havah's uniform. It was an elegant pin, with a Minbari and a Human figure each flanking a large aquamarine stone. It shimmered like abalone shell, but had the depth of sapphire. The pins must have been altered. Havah doubted that there had been a Human figure included a thousand years ago. Sinclair beamed at her and handed her the denn bok that was to be hers as long as she lived. She glanced over at Sech Durhan. There was the barest hint of a smirk on his face. Sinclair bowed deeply and gave the salute. She returned it. She went before her instructors and bowed to them. After the ceremony Sinclair gave her a hug. "Congratulations! I heard you had quite a trial! The Anla Shok who tested you are still talking about it. Although, Sech Turval said that he will continue to work with you on meditation."

"No doubt! I almost blew the whole thing! But I'm just glad it's over." Havah snorted. "Man, they used a changeling net! I tried it on. Those things are horrible! I wanted to claw all my skin off afterwards."

"I heard! Tirhan has been snickering for the past three days about the sight of you appearing in front of him and doing your 'Get this thing off me!' dance."

Havah looked sheepish. "Well, I'm glad that I could provide entertainment at least. I guess that I shouldn't call you 'man' or 'dude', now that you're Entilzah, sir!"

Sinclair grabbed her around the neck with one arm and hugged her in a rough brotherly gesture. "I don't mind being 'dude' in private. I'm going to get enough 'Yes, Entilzah', 'No, Entilzah' the rest of the time. It's nice to hear a remnant of home every once in a while, to remind me that I'm still Human!"

She grinned at him. "So what now?"

"Now, I continue to recruit and get the first new 'graduating class' ready for assignment, and review the information we have so far and the information we still need. You will be able to help me with this planning, after you've gone through the 'officer' training. You've never had a command position before, so you'll need some additional training in that area. This will be focused on commanding fleets."

"Thank you, sir!"

"You'll have a few days before the training starts, so if you'd like to do any traveling, or visit with anyone, or just relax, now would be the time to do so."

"Ok, thank you sir. I think I'll see if I can get in touch with a couple friends."

On the way to her shuttle to Yedor, she encountered a couple of other incoming shuttles of people of new recruits, in particular, a couple of those friends whom she wanted to visit, Trell and Birin. She couldn't contain her excitement at seeing both of them, and ran up to them giving each an exuberant hug.

"Oh my God, Hi! Trell, where have you been? I left a couple messages, but I figured you were out of town doing your thing. I'm glad I ran into you here! Oh, wow, hey, do you two know each other?"

Trell grinned at her and then dropped his gaze, as did Birin. "No, we have not met yet."

"Oh, well, this is Birin, a friend from Yedor. I'm sorry, I never knew your family name. Birin, this is Trell, I met him in New York City of all places, about six or seven years ago." She had never been good at introductions, and now noticed that both Minbari were looking down rather than at her face. Had she committed some faux pas? "Is everything alright? I hope I didn't just do something to offend you?"

"No, no, of course not!" They both piped up, glancing at her, shocked, and Birin continued. "It is very nice to see you! I had heard of your assignment here! That was further incentive to come, although I have been wanting to do this for some time."

Havah sighed with relief. "Whew, well, I'm glad. I just wasn't sure since…"

"Since, we did not look at you for a moment?"

"Yeah."

"I am sorry for that. I have been reading on some Human cultures, and I understand now that many Humans are uncomfortable if they do not have direct eye contact, that it is a symbol of trust. But among the Minbari, it is a symbol of respect to avoid direct eye contact, and it is a hard habit to break when one is raised that way. And I learned that you will be the Entilzah's second in command. I will try to remember to look at you, at least when we are not in a formal setting."_._

Birin turned to Trell. "I am Birin, of the family of Mir." She bowed.

He returned the bow. "I am Trel, of the family of Tokar." They smiled at each other, and Havah thought she caught a glimpse of mutual approval and a spark of something more dramatic between them for a moment. Trell explained to Havah. "I am sorry for not returning your call. I was off-world until after you left. I am very happy to be here! You are looking very well!" He indicated her new Anla Shok uniform. "You look like one of our soldiers."

"You better not tell any of them that."

Trell and Birin both laughed, and Havah returned to something that had caught her ear. "Mir? Isn't that Delenn's family?"

"Yes. We are…I think it would be second or third cousins, in your culture…I cannot remember which…I did not realize until recently that not all peoples counted kin in the same way."

"Ah. So what is it according to the Minbari?"

"We are just cousins, there is no division into first, second or third, in the same way. If one is the child of your mother's or grandparent's sibling on the mother's side, then you are simply 'cousin'. There is more attention to elder generation or younger, than how far removed one is. Although, if you are the child of your father's or grandparent's sibling on the father's side, then that would correspond more closely to what you think of as second cousin, because the maternal relations take precedence."

Havah shook her head, wishing there had been more time for ethnography. She was positive Bir had elaborated that before. But even though Havah had probably written it down, Bir would probably have to remind her a dozen more times. Family trees were always confusing.

The recruits were being herded to the compound. They said goodbye and Havah boarded to return to Yedor.

Nohri bounded up and wrapped herself around Havah's knees as Havah arrived. "Hey kiddo! How are you doing?" Havah said in a bizarre patois of Minbari and English, since there was no Minbari equivalent for 'kiddo'. She picked up the little girl who smiled and began talking animatedly about her gokh and how he was very bad and father put him outside again. "Well, you know, he wouldn't do that if you wouldn't keep encouraging him and feeding him." Havah teased her.

Nohri stuck out her tongue as Katani's voice carried from the doorway. "Nohri! How impolite to behave so to an honored guest, especially one who is absolutely correct! You know your father has told you not to play with it indoors! Greetings, Havah Lassee! I am glad to see you! Please come in and tell me how you are!" She inclined her head and placed her hand over Havah's heart in the traditional gesture of close friends meeting, and then ushered Havah inside and laid out a pitcher of herb tea and fruit. She grasped Havah's arms and looked her up and down, taking in the uniform. "You look…like a Minbari, Miss Anlashok! Even with the hair! So…" She sat Havah down and took a seat next to her. "You must tell me all about the training and how things were with you! I have always been curious. I am familiar with some of it, but I want to hear your stories!"

Havah took the next couple hours and told Katani everything, from the beginning of the training to the end of the trial. Katani listened raptly, interjecting frequent questions, especially about Sech Turval and Sech Durhan. She had heard, of course, of both of them. Some of her family knew Sech Turval. After a couple of hours, Sorail came home from the Temple and greeted Havah. During the meal, Katani invited Havah to take a trip with them the next day to one of the coastal towns. "It is…we have a holiday that best corresponds to your Thanksgiving, and we will be visiting some of my relations in Tuvuri. It is good that you came when you did, as we will be gone tomorrow. Now you can come with us! I think you will be very interested in the ritual."

"I would be thrilled! Thank you!"

"Well, you are practically a Minbari now. You are Anla Shok, a part of our culture, and a part of this family."

Tears sprung to Havah's eyes, she was so touched by Katani's inclusion.

Katani looked at her fondly. "Eat your meal. You have grown even thinner than when you left. Have they not fed you?"

Havah smiled. "They fed me, I just ran it off." Havah looked at Nohri. Her little headbone had sharpened and the ridges were more distinct. And she seemed to have grown two inches in the few weeks Havah had been gone. "Nohri's taller!"

"Yes, she is growing like a little tree. You will see someday when you have children." Katani looked mournfully at the child for a moment, then she shifted with a significant gaze at Havah.

"Whoa…no, no."

"As you say, Miss Havah." Katani smirked and looked thoroughly unconvinced. Sorail endured such comments as many Human fathers and husbands: in silence, casting Havah a look of sympathy while burying himself meditatively in his meal.

He smiled fondly at his wife's back when she went into the kitchen to retrieve some more tea. "We are happy that you can come with us. It means a great deal to Katani. We will go to the coast tomorrow in the morning. It takes a few hours to get there. The ritual is in the evening after dark."

The next day they traveled to the coast through some flurries of snow. Nohri chattered away about the snow, the sky, and everything that she saw out the window. Havah just watched her and laughed, as Sorail took his turn to ask Havah about training. When they arrived in the village, the snow had turned to a chilly windy rain. Ignoring the inclement weather, Katani's relatives teemed outside to greet them. They all went to a central meeting hall. It was covered in sea-side brush and mica. The granite walls blended with the sandy hummocks surrounding it. If there had been sun, the flakes of mica and pyrite would have cast brilliant dark rainbow hues. When they went inside, it was not cold at all as she would have expected a large stone hall to be. Body heat alone would have been enough to warm the room. There was an enormous table laden with more food than would fit on it, and somehow, members of the entire village tried to find some spot on the table to squeeze an eating platter. Many just gave up and stood behind their fellows at the table with their plates in hand, socializing and waiting for the meditation to begin. And it was not possible to distinguish between castes here, aside from the occasional religious robe or military uniform. Even those whom Havah could identify as warrior caste seemed less hostile than any others she had met, although not loquacious by any means. Katani rushed around with Havah in tow, introducing her to various friends. Many of Katani's relatives were fascinated by Havah, both her initiation into the Anla Shok, and by her Humanity. They couldn't ask questions fast enough about Humans, Human culture, Human television programs, Human religious rituals, Human food, Human schools and temples and gods. One of the very young 'cousins' asked Havah what it was like to fight at Proxima Three, and was immediately shushed by his mother. Despite their curiosity about this topic as well, it was considered extremely ill-mannered to ask, unless Havah brought it up first, because it could cause their guest distress, and that would be thoughtless. But children couldn't resist and kept firing questions at Havah when their parents were otherwise engaged.

Then the meditation began. The entire hall full of talking Minbari went silent instantly. All that could be heard was the rain on the roof stone and the moaning wind around the walls. An old priestess spoke from the head of the room. Her powerful voice boomed out across the crowd of ears. "As a village we gather, as a people we gather to remember that we are a people, we are One. Born in the Sea, Fostered by the Land, we thank the Universe for our Home and our lives. We thank Dol'An for the ability to build, and protect, and learn from our world, and delight in it." Three older caste members, presumably members of the local councils, each placed candles on an altar at the head of the room. And all of the Minbari bowed their heads in silent meditation. Havah noticed a little boy standing in a meditative pose fast asleep, his mother too deep in meditation to notice her son's disposition. About fifteen minutes later, the priestess chimed out. "Eat with one another and share delight!" The entire crowd re-animated, and Katani put a plate in Havah's hands, piled with more food than even Havah thought she could eat. But she managed to down a large portion of it, punctuated by the conversations of interested relatives and the constant questions of curious children. One young boy in particular, 'sleeping-boy', was insatiable. "Are you a Human?"

"Yes, I'm from Earth."

He stared wide-eyed at her. "My father said that Humans tempt death every night! First in the War, and then sleeping lying flat! Do you really do that?"

Havah had no idea how to respond to that. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we do lie flat, but it's not dangerous to us. Most Humans find it very comfortable actually."

He let out his breath in awe. "Have you ever killed people?"

Havah knew that question was coming sooner or later. "Yes."

"What was it like?"

"Well," Havah blew out and pursed her lips, in thought of how to frame her answer. "It felt bad because I knew that me and the person I killed could never be friends, and I like being friends."

He thought about that intensely for a moment, furrowing his little brow. And then a question that made Havah choke. "How do Humans mate?"

"Uh…" Havah looked desperately about for Katani, or really any adult Minbari to rescue her. As Murphy's Law would have it, there were several animated conversations going on around Havah that she didn't want to interrupt. "Uh..,ehehe, well…we…mate, I guess probably similar to Minbari."

"But how?"

"Um…well…the male and the female…um…you know, your mom could probably answer this better than me. I don't have a mate. See?"

"Oh."

Just as he was getting ready to ask another question, Nohri ran up and tugged on Havah's fingers to get her to follow. Havah gratefully followed Nohri outside. There were Minbari beginning to trickle out of the hall. The rain had abated, and the wind had softened into a persistent salt-breeze off the ocean. A man in the uniform of a soldier approached the priestess. Perhaps he did not realize that Havah could just make out his words, but he asked if it was appropriate for the Human to be present for the next ritual. The wizened crone gave him a withering look that answered his question. He respectfully bowed and returned to watching the sky, and conversing.

When a large crowd had collected, candles shielded by clear holders were distributed, and everyone filed slowly to the shore where a raft was waiting. The candles were all placed in twig and leaf baskets to shield them from the wind, and then each person placed their votives on the raft. A single ferryman tugged the raft out past the undertow and surf to let it ride the waves that would carry their bright cargo to the bottom of the sea. A sound rose around Havah like none she had ever heard before except once. A music crystal she had listened to a long time ago from deep in the forgotten steppes of Asia had emitted such a sound. A tri-tonal melody from deep in the throat, swelled around her now. Some sang higher, impossibly high, so high she could barely hear them. Some sang lower, deep rumblings like a tectonic hum. But all sang around her. They sang the candles to the sea, and remembered that it had been their own once. They sang to thank the sea for their birth, and for feeding them. They sang to old friends in the sea for their continuing friendship. And they sang to the wind, the breath of Dol'An and to the Universe itself. The sound swelled through Havah and vibrated into her bones and into some part of her that she never thought about, and she sank to her knees. It was the sound of sea-creatures, wordless but complex, and far more ancient than any of the Minbari languages. There were times in the past few weeks that the Minbari had seemed so Human, and she had begun to forget that they weren't simply Humans with bone crests instead of hair. And then a moment like this would hit Havah with the force of a freighter that these beings were undeniably alien, as similar as their faces and mannerisms seemed to hers. And yet…When she had heard the throat harmonics all of those years ago, she could have sworn the sound was from a wind instrument, a dijeridoo or pan pipe, but no. They had come, to her amazement, from Human voices, a part of Humanity that had almost been forgotten in the bustle of technology. Whether it was the old Minbari in her, or the old Human in her that responded to the song she didn't know, but she felt the sea and the wind and the stars, and some part of her heart turned over and woke up. Then the song faded and Katani found her there, on her knees, cheeks streaked with tears.

Havah quickly climbed to her feet and wiped her face. "That…um…that was beautiful." She couldn't say anything else as another tear coursed down her face and she coughed and swiped at it.

Katani tilted her head, clucked, and pulled Havah into a hug. "Dear Havah! It gives me great joy to see it affect you so. You feel what we feel, it makes you one of us. I am so glad that you came and listened!"

The crowd trickled back to the hall for another period of meditation, and then the plates of food were all cleared away for storage. Cubes of wood with niches and strange-shaped crystal pieces were brought out, a strategy game for adults, and large mats were spread out with different markings for children to play a coordination and strategy game with hard beans and colored stones. And the village whiled away the evening in the warm hall playing games and talking. There were open story-telling sessions, for anyone to contribute. The stories were surprisingly candid, some were almost bawdy. But none of them were scathing. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that if one told a story involving someone else who was present, it could make fun only as long as it did not offend or damage. The night whiled until children began yawning and dragging about, and then families began to leave. Katani collected Nohri, who was rubbing her eyes and drooping, and they all retired to the home of Katani's brother, who had prepared a room for guests.

That night Havah dreamed of the sea and the sound of whales calling, and the dream was washed with nostalgia, deep sadness, and homesickness for places she had never been. She saluted the part of her that yearned and then lapsed into another dream, as the singing became stranger, even more alien.

It was the ship. The ship was singing around her, to her, like a live thing. She could see the vast black and the wobbling stars, and she could feel the ship moving through space like a giant loktar in the ocean. She could feel where it was going with sensors that were not hers, but that she knew just by extending her consciousness outward. She could not see the ship inside. It wouldn't let her. She saw only what it let her see, and it wanted her to know the path and nothing more. They approached a planet in a deserted solar system. It was dead. The Devourers, the race they were now calling the Shadows, had blasted it until the surviving inhabitants fled and the atmosphere desiccated and dissolved. This would be the safest place, if things should go badly. There was no reason for the enemy to return here. Nothing was here for them, until now. The ship docked deep in a cave shielded from outside sensors by some substance Turanni didn't recognize. It was smooth and seemed to shift as she watched it. So did the ship. She didn't leave the ship as much as it melted away around her, leaving her standing, with her environmental system. If she stared at the ship long enough, she could almost swear that it breathed. She took tunnels marked by the sign of Nine Stars until coming to a rugged rock face. She put her hand on a rock shaped slightly like the head of a fol, and then crouched and breathed on its snout. A door slid open and a verdant grotto opened before her. It was a self-contained eco-system, complete with a cataract spilling into and recycling in a narrow little river and pool. There was something moving the water, some kind of system, but she couldn't imagine what that might be. She was no scientist. She removed her breather. There was very little life on the surface, but there was still water. This terra-formed grotto was to be their shelter if Valen and the military failed in this war. It was almost beautiful, if one could forget the barrenness of the rest of this world. She walked past the river, through strange purple plants, until she found another rock face. Again, she placed her hand on one of the rocks and then touched it with her breath, and another invisible door whispered open. She entered the tunnel beyond, following the sign of the Council, until she came to a third door. Behind this door, was a dark vault. At the sound of her voice, wall lamps illuminated the cavern.

And sunlight streamed into Havah's face, seeping into the dark behind her eyelids. For the first time since the beginning of these enigmatic dreams, she did not want to be wakened. _Why do I always wake up from the interesting ones! _She snorted in exasperation._ At least show me what's behind Door Number Three! _She rose and shook off the rest of sleep. She couldn't get back to the dream anyway. Katani and her family were all up and chatting in the kitchen with her brother and his family.

They all ate leftover food from the feast, as were every family in the village that day. Havah helped to clean up, with Katani. The rain had stopped, but the wind kept up, and the sky was overcast, the air frigid, and the wind-blown brush was rimed with ice. But Nohri played outside, sliding on slick ice in the courtyard as if it were a balmy summer day, shedding half the clothes Katani had stuffed her into. _Kids!_ Havah thought, and bundled up and went outside to join her. Havah took a running start and slid halfway across the courtyard and then tripped on a patch of un-iced ground and went flying, landed on her belly and kept sliding. Nohri dissolved into hysterical giggles and imitated her, landing in a little spread-eagle bundle of clothes in the middle of the yard, and then scrambled up and did it again. Pretty soon a few other children of various ages were running, leaping and sliding, on their feet, on their stomachs and on flat container lids. Finally Katani came out and called Nohri back inside. Nohri began to come in but Katani stared her down, fighting a smile, pointing to the little pile of discarded coats. Nohri slunk back and picked them up. It was time to go home. The trip back was pleasant. Havah enjoyed the landscape, rolling plains covered in snow, dotted with herds of some type of bulky furred animal. She didn't ask Katani what they were, although she was curious. She just felt like being quiet and thinking for a while about what she had seen and heard. And the Minbari were more than comfortable with long contemplative silences, so they noticed quickly when someone was lost in thought, and rarely intruded. As her mind wandered, she realized that she was content here, something she had not felt for a long time, even on Earth. The ways were so alien in some respects, and she didn't think she could settle down in a place with such a structure as a caste system. It was too contrary to the way she had been raised. But right here, right now, she was happy. _That's enough for now._

Because of the direction of the wind, they made poorer time than on the way there, and there was enough time to get Havah to her shuttle, but not much more. Katani and Sorail said goodbye and hugged her, and Katani insisted on sending her back with food, since the Anla Shok were 'obviously starving her'. She unattached Nohri from her neck and gave her back to her parents and joined the shuttle, waving.

She began fleet training after she returned to the compound. Another instructor, Sech Mirenn, was a master strategist of the Religious Caste, formerly of the Warrior Caste. She was extremely unusual in that she had been one of the few warriors to resign her post as Alyt under a prominent general during the War, out of objection to the plans for the Line. She had been punished, shamed, and called a coward before a tribunal, and then incarcerated, but had maintained that she did not believe that Dukhat would have sanctioned their actions. She held that she did not believe that there was any victory to be had because the Humans could not hope to win, making her people's holy war dishonorable. She had stood up to the Council of Caste Elders itself. Even after the Grey Council's order to surrender, she had remained in military stockade for five years after the ending of the War, never acceding her opinion once. Finally, the Grey Council heard of it and ordered her release, another point of contention between the Grey Council and the Warrior Caste to add to the anger of surrender. Sinclair had corralled her assistance with the Anla Shok because she had stood by her belief under duress, and also because she was the only commander among the Warrior Caste, save a few members in the Anla Shok, who had both the expertise to train more commanders, and was willing to train a Human one. Having heard her story, Havah could only stare at the woman's embittered face in utter awe before she realized that she was being disrespectful and dropped her gaze to the floor immediately. "I'm…I apologize, Na! It is…a great honor to meet you!"

Mirenn studied the Human woman up and down, the 'changeling' of Proxima Three. She was impudent, and immature, but she strove to be proper, and appeared very eager to learn. And despite Havah's breach in protocol, Mirenn had not missed the expression in Havah's too-inquisitive eyes before they lowered. She pursed her lips and replied dryly. "There is little time. Let us begin."

Her training went well. Sech Mirenn proved not only to be a good instructor, but her tactics were frankly brilliant. It was no wonder that the military was so infuriated with her for resigning. Havah avidly soaked up everything the woman taught. Mirenn, for her part, was satisfied to be engaging in strategy again, and glad to have someone to instruct. She had missed the execution of military solutions. Weeks later, at the conclusion of the training, there was a small ceremony in which Havah was given a new over-coat, only slightly different from the traditional one for the other Anla Shok, signifying someone who is alyt, executive officer, or second-in-command. After the ceremony, her and Sinclair met to discuss her duties.

"I know you are familiar with emergency management. Well, as you now know, this is no different. Logistics, Planning, Operations. While you have been training, I've assigned veteran Rangers to begin procurement and set up supply lines for strengthening and expanding our listening posts. We will both be working on planning, along with Sech Mirenn. I need you to act as my chief of operations. Delenn has returned to Babylon 5, where she is continuing as Ambassador. She will also be assisting in planning and logistics/financial, with her ties to the Council and her support among the Religious Caste. My priority is to develop a consistent surveillance plan. We NEED information, and if the Minbari are right about their supposition and their timing, then that information will begin to make itself available soon. Do you still have access to the emergency management plan, the enhanced surveillance protocols that the task force developed?"

"Yeah, Carmen has them, and Doug probably does too."

"Get me another copy, there's no point re-inventing the wheel. It will have to be altered of course, but we can use much of it. I have a list of our current listening posts." He pulled out a sector chart. "And there aren't nearly enough. We need more, here, here, all of these marked spots."

"For influenza surveillance, I reported every week during flu season back on earth, but I could just call the different health care providers. This is going to be different. 1. This is information I may not be able to just call you on, and 2. To report personally even every month may use up more resources than the benefit would provide."

"Agreed, 'no news is good news' may be the best policy in this case, although we will need _some_ system of formal reporting. It will just not be as frequent as I might prefer."

"Also, we can't do this alone. The Anla Shok are good listeners, but they need to get more talkers to listen to. We need more collaborations, we need a network. The best way to get information is buy-in from other people. But we need to know who we are going to ask. And that is going to be different for different areas. We need social mapping of the different areas we send people to. On Babylon 5, I know from working there and spending time with people that everything, everything passes the ears of the people in Down Below."

"Good. What else?"

"Um…We need to develop a case definition. We say we are trying to collect information. Well, what constitutes 'information'? What are the boundaries of 'relevant', and how much can go on hunch? Also, we need to set up some way of storing, cataloging and analyzing the data we gather."

"I've organized for the creation of a database with security clearance for assigned individuals. We need to specify the structure of the storage fields, and how we want the data organized. We will work on that with the database administrator tomorrow. Case definition?"

"Well, either we cast a really broad net, lessen our chances of missing anything important, and also get a whole lot of insignificant dreck, OR we go for specificity and accept that we may miss something. I guess what we decide would have to depend on what we know about the aliens we're looking for."

"Yes. And we know the configuration of their ships, their potential fire-power, at least that the lower limit is much higher than ours, and some of their capabilities. We know that their home-world is located on the Rim, and that the Minbari call it Z'hadum. We know that a few other worlds have had negative encounters with them. And in all probability they use organic technology. We know that they possess some kind of cloaking technology for their ships, or possess the ability to phase in and out of hyperspace without jump technology. And if the creatures we saw on that vid recording were actually in connection with those ships, then they possess the technology to go unseen themselves."

"Yikes. Well, I'd say that we should probably cast a wide net then, and put up with the dreck."

"Agreed, so we will give our agents the profile of the aliens that we have developed, and based on that and their training, they can report their observations appropriately. They should keep daily data journals, just like you do in your ethnographies. What may seem insignificant at one time may prove useful in retrospect."

"At what point do you want data from these journals, and when do you want formal reports?"

"For now, monthly as far as formal compilations, unless something unusual presents itself. None of that is to go over the link until we have a better idea of what we may be dealing with. In the event that we start getting a couple of unusual reports, we will institute enhanced surveillance, and I will want reports more often. We will just have to see. I know that this seems very nebulous, but since we don't have a good idea what we are looking for, this is going to have to develop, to a certain degree, as we go along."

"Yes sir, I understand. We have no clue what these aliens will do. Speaking of which, what do you have in mind for analysis of the data?"

"Well, you're the anthropologist, what are your thoughts?"

"Most of the data we get will be qualitative. And since we know very little about what we expect to find yet, we should consider using grounded theory methods." She paused and scratched her head. "Grounded theory uses a bottom up approach to formulating a theory. Most science forms hypotheses and then collects data that either corroborates or weakens the likelihood that those hypotheses are incorrect. You can never _prove _a theory, only disprove the null hypothesis…Anyway…Grounded theory, on the other hand, collects data first, and then builds hypotheses out of the themes that emerge from the data, as it is being reviewed. Then, instead of using parametric statistical tests, which depend on random sampling and the assumption of a normal distribution, the hypotheses become stronger based on saturation, the extent to which certain themes arise in sample after sample."

"That sounds reasonable. You can inform the database administrator of your ideas tomorrow. It may be that they are familiar with these methods."

"Yes sir. What about security clearance?"

"No one but the Anla Shok, the Grey Council, and it is very likely that Michael Garibaldi will need to know something if we expect to use Babylon 5. And we need him."

"Definitely! He'll blow a gasket if he finds out people have been sneaking around the station and he doesn't know about it."

At this, Sinclair let out a bellowing laugh. "Yes, he will. I've drafted a message for him that I'll send out this month with the next deployment there."

Havah had been taking detailed notes. "I'll have the action steps for our surveillance network by our meeting tomorrow. Timeline for full readiness?"

"Well, I estimate that the social networking will have to take place along the way. The supply lines for our agents are mostly in place. The database can be set up within a day, so I would say…by the end of this month, for the most part. Our veteran agents do have some allies, and many of our new Rangers have their own contacts and networks they can access. I need you to help me organize their deployment. You will be in charge primarily of the Rangers on Earth, and overall, you will act in my absence, and report to me, since I can't be in two places at once."

"Understood."

The next day, as Havah met with Sinclair again, to go over the structure of the database, Satai Neroon swept in. He glowered at both of them. But Entilzah Sinclair merely smiled graciously and asked, "Is there something I can do for you, Satai?"

"It is not appropriate that Humans be allowed membership to the Anla Shok, but since they have been," his tone dripped with disdain and irritation, "the Warrior Caste members of the Council are sanctioned to inspect the organization under its new…Human leadership, to see that it is…sufficient."

"The instructors remain the same as they were, Satai, including Sech Durhan. Shall I pass along your concern so that they make certain to double their efforts with the Humans?" Not very diplomatic, Sinclair admitted, but he was very tired and very busy, and didn't have time for disgruntled warriors fishing for arguments.

Neroon halted, fully aware of all of the implications. He did not wish to insult his former teacher, Sech Durhan, so he chose his words carefully. "It is not the revered instructors of this academy that I take issue with. It is _your_ assumption of this leadership. You have no place assuming control of a Minbari military organization. That belongs to the Warrior Caste. However, since that decision has already been made, over our heads, I am doing what I can to mitigate the damage you will do and see to it that you do not bring shame to the Warrior Caste and to the MINBARI Anla Shok!"

Sinclair bit down on the caustic reply that kept wanting to escape and said instead, "Well, Satai, please inspect as you wish, and let me know if you desire any assistance." If Neroon had been sanctioned by the rest of the Grey Council, then it was likely that the Warrior Caste members, now numbering four instead of three, were stymieing the Council's progress in some way, or threatening to, if not placated. It would be best to try to cooperate for now, and save trouble. The political situation was incendiary at best, and he knew all too well how quickly funding and support could disappear in troubled times, as the balance of power shifted. He had been assigned to this task and he wanted to complete it.

Neroon had completely ignored Havah's existence until now, when he turned a scathing eye on her.

She realized that she had been staring at her father openly again, and dropped her gaze, but not soon enough.

"You can begin by teaching your impudent _executive officer_," the words were saturated with sarcasm "how to demonstrate respect to a member of the Grey Council."

Before Havah could speak, Sinclair handled the comment evenly. "I can assure you that my executive officer meant no offense, Satai. But I will make certain that all of the Human Anla Shok understand and follow issues of protocol."

Neroon narrowed his eyes and left, to peruse the compound. Not the least of his quarrels with the assignment of the Humans was this woman. He remembered her clearly from the station. Even had she not been Human, how could such a slack-jawed goggle-eyed youngster command any respect from anyone! And to make matters worse, it appeared that her curiosity had not been thrashed out of her yet. She had not a single quality necessary for command! He had not known during his encounter at the station that this annoying girl had been the Human warrior responsible for Proxima Three, and had been on the Line. It filled him with consternation that so many members of the military had fallen to her. They must have taken one look at her and dismissed her as an easily dispensable nuisance. But at least that was something, he supposed. She has no command experience at all and merely a couple of years of simple infantry training, but at least she had seen a war and battle. In any case, he would not win that argument. He had already tried, and the new leader of the Grey Council, Religious Caste, had maintained that it was Sinclair's decision to choose his officer, and he had made his choice. That choice had been already approved by the Council prior to Neroon's initiation and would not be changed now. He had expected more support from the Warrior Caste members of the Council, but two of them seemed to believe the wild story that Delenn had put forth that some of the Humans had Minbari souls, and believed, based on their encounter with her during the Battle of the Line, that she was one of the displaced. Worse! They actually believed that this woman's soul was the fallen Turanni, one of the members of the first Grey Council! Unimaginably preposterous! That was an insult not only to his intelligence, but to his family bloodline! Turanni had been a Star Rider of the family of Callier, HIS family! He had swallowed that insult, however, because it was an argument that he would not win, at least not currently, and another bit of information had been presented to him that gave him pause. There was apparently genetic evidence that this woman was half-Minbari, on her father's side. That man was so far unknown.

"So", Satai Rathenn had said, "not only is it possible for her to have inherited a Minbari soul, but it is even possible, since no one knows her genetic heritage…" If they had not in chambers, he and Neroon would have come to blows.

"You dare make such an implication of my clan?" He had been outraged.

"I am merely stating a clinical possibility. I do not question the honor of your clan. There are no answers. And even if there were, no shame would be imputed to the 'contributor'. It is unlikely to have been done with his consent. She has been engineered." Rathenn had added innocently.

Neroon had barely contained his rage, returned to his composure and accepted the concession, glaring at Rathenn. In truth, though he was certain it couldn't be anyone from his family, he didn't want to think about it much. Not then and not now. Every time he looked at her or thought about her face, a strange unsettled feeling stirred in the pit of his gut. And he kept dreaming and ruminating about someone with her face, but piercing golden eyes. There was something peculiar about that Human, half-Minbari or otherwise!

He stalked around the training grounds, greeted his venerable former teacher properly, and then watched the performance of the recruits, knowing that his presence was making them nervous.

"Mr. Sunshine." Havah said.

Entilzah Sinclair just sighed. "We need to focus on our plan and let him go about his business. There's a lot to do. If he has complaints, I will deal with them later. And, I'm not pointing a finger at you, yet, but we need to make sure to pacify the Warrior Caste members as much as possible right now. I'm not saying bend over backwards. The Council as a whole asked me to take command of the Rangers, and I made it clear that if they want me, I'm calling the shots that I need to call, to do this right. But we need to be diplomats here too. We're working on a razor's edge, as you know."

"Nothing is simple."

"You got it."

"I stink at diplomacy. How did I get myself into this?"

Sinclair laughed, his broad smile lighting the room. "I wanted to share the joy. You'll learn. It'll be good for you!" He clapped her on the shoulder.

"Like liver and brussel sprouts? Thanks, Entilzah!"

Neroon's sleep was unquiet.

Everything was a blur. He could feel some device attached to his head. It felt like it was boring into his mind. But then he lost notice of it to the creature before him. The woman facing him was irresistible, and he was lost in the hunger of her yellow-green eyes. They were the fierce eyes of a gokar, and her body had the same sinuous grace, but slender. She moved towards him like an inexorable river, and he couldn't but reach for her and run his hands along the soft warm olive skin. Her lips yielded to his like water. She was a sea maiden of myth, with a long veil of sea-weed draped from her head. He wanted to pull her body into his own. He needed her, her lips, her golden gaze. The pleasure faded, and the dream shifted. The strange female lying in front of him was in peril. He pulled the bonds off of her wrists and ankles with his bare hands, the metal slicing his palms, and they ran, gray walls encompassing them. They entered a room full of horrors. He could not see the distorted figures clearly, only feel the impression of terrible wrongness. They couldn't escape, they had to escape. He tried to release as many of the broken creatures as he could, but his hands were filled with lead and he couldn't move fast enough. Drugs. The air was drugged. The beautiful girl was motioning to him and holding her breath as they ran to the entrance. But the doors closed and they were trapped. He shoved through frightened people and tore at the door controls as the lovely female sank to her knees and stopped moving. No!

Neroon jolted awake, even as the fine points of the dream began fading. His heart was pounding as he thrust off the cover and stormed out to the patio in his sleeping robe. The cold air brushed away the stark reality of the dream, and most of the details, but did not relieve the dark fear, or the wrenching sadness when he thought of those beautiful eyes. It also didn't relieve the annoyance at the need he now experienced. Other parts of him were unquiet now as well.

Turanni ran as fast as her short young legs would carry her, stopping and hiding whenever she saw an adult. She had run away from her mother's family. She peered around a tree at the sight of garrisons of soldiers and medics, combing the body-strewn field for survivors. She could hear the groans and smell the blood. It was coppery and sickeningly strong. She had looked everywhere for her father, except here. He couldn't be here, he couldn't. She scanned the field but couldn't tell. When most of the combers had left, and before more would come to collect the dead, she crept out to look for him among the fallen. Minbari history had never seen such a terrible day since the Cold Times. The Star Riders and Wind Swords had finally clashed openly. Her father had been called and he went. And now, she had to find him. He was a great warrior, how could he be here? But it was only one of two places she hadn't looked yet. Her stomach writhed as she scanned body after body. And then found him. He lay slightly twisted, but staring at the sky with unseeing eyes. His throat had been slit. It had been quick. Wrenching pain gripped Turanni's stomach as she looked at him and she hunkered down next to him, clutching her belly and speaking to him, hoping he would turn and look at her, but knowing he wouldn't.

She shook him. "Father, father, wake up. Please wake up, it's Turanni!" She touched his nose and then his cheek. It was blue and cold. "FATHER WAKE UP!" She screamed, putting her arms on either side of his head and hugging him. "Pleeeaase wake up!" She sobbed quietly, as medics ran up, having seen her.

They were shouting to each other. "How did she get here? She cannot be more than seven summers, by Dol'An! Get her away from this!" She felt powerful hands pulling her, and heard someone trying to talk kindly to her, but she decided to stay. The hands were insistent and picked her up. She clawed at them, screaming and fighting the arms around her, but they were too strong and two soldiers carried her from the still body, his blood covering the backs of her arms where she had hugged him. They deposited her, and someone tried talking to her, but she didn't notice, or see where she was, through hysterical tears.

Phaal, her mother's sister, came and took her home, admonishing her for disobedience. "You could have been killed! You have caused great trouble here, when there was already trouble enough! Come now, this has been a terrible sorrow for us all. But you must remember that your father was a warrior. He knew what was expected, as did your mother." But she had never known her mother. Something had gone wrong during her birth and her mother had died. Her mother's family said that her father coddled Turanni and never gave her any discipline, because she was all he had of his wife, but that wasn't true. She just didn't want to be alone.

Then the scene changed and she was at a large stone temple. It was called Varenni. She knew that in the dream. Except that it wasn't certain whether Turanni knew it, or whether Havah did. She walked inside and in the center of the great darkness was a pile of ashes that had once been a person.

"Father, wake up…" Havah woke with a wave of nausea and rushed to the bathroom and leaned, with her forehead on her arm at the edge of the toilet until it passed. And then sat for a while on the floor, rocking back and forth and shivering. Finally, when she was sure there would be no mad dashes for the bathroom again, she went and linked in to Earth. It was daytime there, and her mother was always complaining that she never called.

Her mother's thin cheerful face appeared. "To what do I owe this pleasure? It's nice to hear from you…finally!"

"Hi mom." Havah said tiredly.

"Darling, are you alright? You look like you've been crying, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to make sure…I just wanted to see how you were. I do miss you, you know, as much as you complain that I don't."

"I know, but it's a mother's privilege. We are doing well, your father is in his den working as usual. Do you want me to put him on, in a few?"

"Yeah."

Her father's happy befuddled face appeared on the screen.

17


	14. Chapter 14

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 14—Chasing Dreams

The next day, her and Sinclair discussed the assignments.

"Delenn will be able to command the Anla Shok on Babylon 5 without much help for a little while, until we're ready to give John Sheridan more information. Even though her credibility has taken a hit because of her removal from the Council, she is still at the head of the Religious Caste, at least for those Minbari on Babylon 5. And as an ambassador and ex-Council member, she still has a lot of influence. You may want to make a trip there to coordinate with her, and to help some of the new Rangers there to tap into your networks and contacts in Down Below. But I'll need you here for a little while. First, I want you to help the Healer's Guild to prepare for the worst-case scenario. You have emergency management planning experience. They haven't had to deal with a national emergency on their own soil in a thousand years, and while I know they try to be prepared for everything, there is a lack of real life experience. They need to have their hospital areas set up for massive influxes of patients, civilian patients, for disease control under those conditions, and for the disposal of large numbers of corpses, sudden evacuation, and other such things. You will have to do so at their whim because the Warrior Caste is currently not addressing that possibility in the civilian sector, and the Grey Council's hands are tied. This is where I need your diplomacy. You'll have to collaborate with the care providers without attracting too much attention, and without much aid from the Council."

"Whew. I'll just see if I can wink my eyes and make it rain too. Although, I think it might actually be easier here because of the nature of health care. Doctors don't seem to be as overwhelmed on a day-to-day basis. They may already have it covered."

"Good. Another thing I will need from you, as soon as you finish that assignment, is information from Earth. If this war comes, and it looks as though it might, Minbar is going to be a big player, but because of our alliance, so is Earth, and there are some pretty big power struggles going on in both places right now. We need to keep our ear to the ground now more than ever, but not just about these Shadows. There's a lot of conflict heating up between the Narn and Centauri. It looks like they might be at war soon. There are a lot of storms to watch, Havah. Distraction is the perfect time for predators to move in. No matter how powerful they are, they will just wait until everyone is embroiled in their own problems, and then sit back and watch us do half of their work for them, and move in when everyone is divided. It is going to be a dangerous watch, but I need to know what is going on with Earth Gov, and I can't send a Minbari for that. You've worked for the government, and for the military, so you have contacts, but not so close that you are a threat. And I want you to set up a network of Rangers to stay and work the inside."

"Yes sir. What about Z'hadum? Should we try to get some idea what's going on there?"

Sinclair sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and face. "No. It's way too risky. We would need to get someone in without being seen, and unless you have some talent or technology that you haven't told me about. Part of our advantage right now depends on their not knowing how much we know."

Havah sighed. "You're right. But my curiosity is eating me alive. I'd like to know more about what happened to the Icarus."

"Get in line. Curiosity is exactly what they're counting on. Well, we know that the Icarus encountered these beings, and that a man listed as Morden survived. I'd like to know more about him, but that's a risky game of cat and mouse. It appears that these Shadows accompany him, and there would be very little way to know when. No, I want you to go to Earth. There are still too many holes in our information. With your experience in emergency management, I can get you assigned under someone in the Earth Alliance Emergency Management Agency. You'll have more contact with different groups there than you will under any of the senators. They tend to have access to only a few committees, and depending on the senator, and how bad things really are, they may start to lose access to certain types of information…You wouldn't happen to be a latent telepath by any chance would you?"

"Nope. Sorry. Why?"

"Well, my gut tells me that Psi-Corps is in on whatever is going on there, and I'm wishing that I could get someone into Psi-Corps."

"What did you say earlier? 'Get in line!'."

He grinned.

"I'll contact Carmen and get copies of the readiness plan for health care facilities, and see if I can meet with some of the civilian providers and see what they think of it. It'll be better if they take it up themselves."

"Good. I'll arrange for your assignment to Earth."

It was good to see her old supervisor again. She hadn't changed a bit. Carmen talked for about a minute, was interrupted about three times, and finally got to what Havah was looking for. After transmitting the readiness plan, Carmen put a few different staff members on to say hi. "We all miss you, sweetie. Stop by if you're in the area."

After Havah got off the horn, she reviewed the document, noted where changes would need to be made, and contacted Kral Situr. Havah knew her vaguely from her arrival, and had learned that she was on the Healer's Guild Council. That would be a logical place to start. She met with the kral in her office. The telepath could sense Havah's nervousness, and sat patiently.

Havah scratched her head, trying to figure out how to broach the subject delicately. She had never been one for mincing words so she just started in. "Kral, I'm here because I wanted to share an idea with you that you might find useful. I don't know much about your medical system, so it's possible that you will be already familiar with this, or won't find any value in it, but I am here to discuss civilian emergency readiness…" Rather than bring up the possibility of invasion, she just paused to let the kral come to whatever conclusion she might.

Situr leaned forward, interested. "Let me see what you have brought."

Havah handed it to her. And Situr reviewed it pensively for a few minutes, and then sat back not saying anything for a few moments, thinking. Then she slowly nodded. "Yes, this is a concern. You mean to be ready for the coming darkness, yes? Although it is good to be ready for other contingencies as well. It is something that we have been considering and moving towards, but not fast enough. We are not ready as we should be. I think perhaps it is complacency. We are so confident that nothing could ever happen here, so we consider our time to be greater than it may be. I will ask for a meeting of the Guild and make a case before them to move up hazards training. Those among the Warrior Caste should be able to help us with this. It is not a pleasant consideration, but must be dealt with. I will also show them this document, although we will have to develop our own, in accordance with Minbari regulations. We may borrow from this document, and if so, will call you if necessary, but this must be done by the Minbari healers, you understand."

"Completely, Kral Situr."

"Thank you for bringing this and reminding me of this priority, Anlashok Lassee. It is nice to see you again. I hope you are well." She bowed formally. Havah returned it, and left. _That was too easy, _she thought.

And she was right. Not more than a day later, Satai Neroon paid a visit, with a tall aide striding behind him to keep up with his cantankerous mentor. "Anlashok Lassee! I just received word from the Healer's Guild that you paid one of their members a visit to discuss emergency readiness. First of all, they have existed for over a thousand years conducting their business perfectly well before you ever came to plague our existence. It is arrogance to assume that they require any assistance from you! That is a matter for the Warrior Caste, and when last I could see, you may try to dress like one of us, but you will never be able to fill our shoes. Second, do not assume that because you have foolishly been admitted to the Anla Shok that you have any place in our affairs, or in our society. You do not, and you never will! I will remind you as well, that your prime ally here has been returned to Babylon 5, where she belongs! She no longer has the power to keep you in favor, or out of trouble, as she has demonstrated her disregard for her people herself."

He pivoted and would have left, but Havah resented the attack on Delenn. "Why Satai? Because she became part Human, in appearance? I was led to believe that the Minbari respected privacy? If she chose to make such a change, what business is it of anyone else's?"

He swiveled again and faced her, his dark eyes burning holes in her as his face drew close. "Such a comment can only demonstrate how little you know or care for the Minbari! Her appearance and her choices matter to all of us. We are a people in a way that a Human such as yourself could never understand, and what happens to one affects all of us! She has made herself an abomination, an aberration of nature, a creature that would not exist except for the meddlings of foreigners and the experiments of tyrants! With luck, her mutation will end with her and not be passed on to sully the blood and spirit of future generations!" He gave her a meaningful look, scanning her up and down, and it became obvious that he was not just talking about Delenn. He knew, at least about her heritage, if not about his own involvement. How did he know? Of course, he was Grey Council now. Who knew how much they knew about anything? Her breath died in her throat along with any response she could have fashioned, and she brushed past him, not caring anymore how disrespectful that might seem. He was only too happy to be rid of her presence. Perhaps at last someone had gotten through to her, and they wouldn't have to see any more of her.

As she stalked away, Trell had come to meet her, having not seen her for a great while, and wanting to talk again. He saw Neroon's glowering form walking away in the other direction, and easily guessed the source of her distress. Normally, he would have left her alone out of respect, but something compelled him to follow her. "Havah, wait!"

He caught up to her in a small dark glade. No one was around. "Wait. Are you alright? I saw Neroon. I know things have been bad…"

Her face crumpled into silent tears. She plopped down on a bench and put her face into her hands. Trell was instantly at her side, and pulled her into his arms, unashamed by her display. He said nothing, just waited, holding her until the spasms passed. She pulled away and wiped her face, glancing around nervously.

"No one has seen us, Havah." He brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her eyes. "I am your friend. What has happened?"

Havah shook her head, staring despondently at the ground. She looked up at his thoughtful eyes. He had a vastly different view, it seemed, than most Minbari. And she had to speak to someone now, because she would never tell Neroon. "If I tell you this, swear that you will tell no one."

"I swear, in the name of Valen." He peered at her earnestly.

She took a deep breath. "Trell, I am half-Minbari, like Delenn. Except that I didn't transform myself. I was born that way. My parents were prisoners of a race that experimented on them. They escaped, but not before my mother was pregnant. The aliens used some sort of mind-control device to force them to mate, and then engineered my DNA from the union. I came here because I was asked. But I also wanted to know more about my father. I found out about the whole thing last year."

He stared at her in amazement and horror, but said nothing that might insult her. "And have you found him?"

"Yes. He doesn't know about me."

"But you are his child. I know it is a terrible situation, but perhaps if you talked—"

"Trell, I just did!…I just did! He thinks of any being like me as an abomination. That's pretty much what he said. There is nothing to talk about."

His eyes widened. "Satai Neroon?…Are you certain?"

Havah motioned in assent, dropped her hand and turned away. "He gave my mother his name before they escaped. And she drew pictures of him. She didn't remember at first, see? The aliens erased their memories. But since my mother was pregnant, she needed to know what happened, and got a telepath to pull the memories out. That's why he has no clue. He won't remember. He has no reason to."

"In Valen's name!"

"You're telling me, brother!…Look, I mean it. No one can know about this."

"I gave my word, and I will keep it. But Havah, parents should know their children—"

"He doesn't want to know, Trell! Do you think he would feel anything but hatred and shame? All I can do is remind him of a moment of powerlessness."

"Yes, but he's your father—"

"And in what Fantasy-land do you think that fathers can't hate their children? Take a good look at Earth orphanages and foster homes sometime. They're full of reality. Parenthood isn't a guarantee, there is no such thing!"

"But this isn't Earth, Havah."

"No, but I've been here long enough to find that Minbari aren't so different than Humans. I hope you do not take that for an insult. It is just true, in both good and bad ways. I think that sentient life always has some things that are in common. One of those things is the range of reactions that people can have to horror or trauma, and his reaction seems consistently to be rage."

"Yes, that is true. We call that idea, of similar reactions among sentient beings, the Principles of Sentient Life…I understand why you make the choice to keep this knowledge. But it makes me very sad, and I hope that someday, things will be different for you. It is not your fault, what happened to them. You do understand this, yes?"

"What difference would that make to him? And even if he wasn't inclined to hate me, what would happen to him in terms of caste and clan?"

"I do not know. What happened was not his fault either. He could not have done other than he did." 

"And do you think that will matter to his caste or clan? As much he and I dislike one another, I didn't come here to ruin his career."

Trell came and put his hands on her shoulders, and sighed. There was nothing he could think of to say to his friend. She was very likely correct, so he said nothing. She turned to face him. "Thank you for being here and listening and all. I'm sorry I lost it for a few minutes there. I'm going back to the compound."

She turned and made to leave, but Trell stopped her. "You are very welcome, Havah. You have been a friend to me, and no matter what the Grey Council, Neroon, or you think of your existence, it is a fortunate one, not just for you, but for us. And regardless of how it came about, your heritage is a proud one."

Havah nodded and was gone.

Felshenn boiled at the Human's words, from where he sat unseen behind a thick hedge. Seeing the storm in her face, he had slipped away, knowing his mentor had other matters to attend to, and followed her, only to nearly stumble into this melodrama. Satai Neroon with Human offspring? Ridiculous! The Human was more malicious than the Satai had anticipated, propagating such lies. And yet…her voice had the inimitable ring of truth. And her anguish had been genuine.

He returned to his quarters and used his clearance to access a number of files. First, he looked up Havah's file in the alien registry. It listed her as Human, but that was not a surprise. He was an accomplished hacker and with some difficulty, hacked into her medical file. It would have to be there. And it was, a record from both her stay on Babylon 5, and her entrance exam from her arrival on Minbar. _It helps to have a clan member set up the medical security codes!_ He thought wryly. But she had been telling the truth about at least part of it. She was indeed half-Minbari. _Valen rescue us!_ He then used his security clearance to access ship's logs from a year before her Earth birth-date. He searched for a long time, telling himself every file, that this file was the last file he would search, and that he was not going to waste any more time catering to this nonsense! And then he found it, a file dating back thirty-two years in Human terms. Neroon had been traveling alone through the Epsilon sector, near where Babylon 5 was now. His ship had gone missing. He had been out of contact, and by the time any ships realized that something was amiss, and dispatched back-ups to the area, he had escaped. The subsequent report stated that he was found in a life pod, having escaped from a ship of unknown configuration at the time. The trail was too cold and the cruiser that found him had been unable to locate the enemy ship. The race later became known, through other abuses, as the Stribes. Neroon had described them thoroughly, one of the first detailed reports of their appearance and the configuration of their ships. But he had been unable to report some of what had happened on the ship, except their martial capabilities. He had vivid memories of seeing experimental victims, and surmised that they were a research vessel. This had been enough to allow the Minbari to thwart future encounters and prevent many excursions into Minbari space. Felshenn closed out the reports and just stared at the screen. The Human had been telling the truth. He hated to admit it, and wanted more proof, but he knew that she could not have known of this otherwise. Who else knew about this?

There was a message waiting for Havah when she returned to her quarters. It was Kral Situr. "I just wanted to warn you that I brought up the plan you showed me at a council meeting, and recommended the enhancement of our own plans, and while many were very positive about it, I sensed a dissatisfaction from one among the Warrior Caste. I could not tell whether this irritation was at us, and so I thought it prudent to let you know of the reaction. I do hope that this does not have any negative fallout, and apologize if it does. I heard that someone spoke to Satai Neroon about the idea, and that he did not respond well. I know that you came to us with the desire to share information and this is appreciated, by others in the guild as well as myself. I wished you to know this, in case any unfavorable words reach your ears. I will also pass our appreciation on to Entilzah Sinclair. We will take the enhancement and emergency planning from here, but call me if you have any questions."

_Too late,_ Havah thought. _Neroon's already been here. But at least a few people don't think of me as a 'plague'. I thoroughly messed that one up. For all of Sinclair's diplomacy training, I hope he ain't hoping for much, because Mahatma Gandhi, I'll never be._ A chime sounded at the door. It was Birin and Trell.

Birin was toting a container which she opened for Havah to look at. "I know that we are supposed to leave our commanding officers alone to their deliberations, but I also know that you never went to get dinner, and my family sent me this. You have never had any, and so I thought it would be more rude not to offer any."

"What is it?" Havah sat down and invited them to sit with a casual gesture.

"Chol sha. It means 'sweet death'. It is a confection."

"That's an encouraging name." But Havah's sweet tooth got the better of her and she took a small piece of the plain cracker that Bir held out and scooped up some of the fluff in the ornate container. It was sticky and very sweet, and had a slight after-taste of treacle. Interesting. She didn't like it at first, but the taste started to grow on her, and she finished up the cracker and took another. "Thank you. It's very good."

Birin grinned. "You know that Sech Yurenn kept talking about you, in our hand-to-hand class. He knew that you had taken some other kind of martial art, but he told all of the Humans to keep in mind how you move, and deflect and confuse the opponent rather than trying to power through the moves. Many of the larger Minbari kept relying on force. He did not have to tell any of the smaller students to try another way." She glanced meaningfully at the considerably larger Trell, who smiled and looked affronted.

"I did not do this!"

"No, not as dramatically as some of the other males." She teased.

His face colored, and Havah noticed for the second time the chemistry between the two Minbari. They had gotten considerably closer. His eyes rested fondly on Birin's laughing face. And then Bir caught Havah gazing at them with a bemused look. "I know what you are thinking Anlashok Na Lassee, but we are proper Minbari!"

"Uh-huh." Havah said, grinning smugly. "I don't know what you are talking about, I'm not thinking anything…except that y'all are a cute couple."

"Yes!" Said Bir, laughing pointedly. "Although I do not know that either of our families will think so. Mine is still displeased that I joined the Anla Shok, even though I have been talking about it for years."

"Why would anyone have a problem?"

A sad note came into Trell's voice. "Our families are…radically different, in caste, in profession."

"Oh." Havah looked at him steadily. "I still don't understand a lot about your culture, but I am beginning to understand that. So what do you mean to do?"

"Nothing for now. We are…what is the Human expression? 'Playing things by ear.' What a peculiar turn of phrase. I get such a strange image from that, but I suppose I can see how it originated, since so many other races have such large ears compared to the Minbari!" Birin slyly glanced at her, while innocuously popping a cracker in her mouth.

"Very cute. 'The better to hear you with, my dear!'"

Bir grinned. "My family is confusing. They have always encouraged me, and other cousins as well, to follow the calling of our hearts, and do what we believe is right, and yet they complain when that does not turn out to be as they thought it would, or as they would have done. They think that Delenn's recent actions have had a bad influence on me."

"Oh boy! You can join twenty-million other rebellious people in Earth Alliance, who have the same problem with their families."

"I thought that Humans were independent though, that your culture stressed that paradigm, rather than conformity?"

"Well, yes. Some do, in some cultures, the one you see the most of. But even we didn't get there without a lot of roof-raising, hair-pulling, family-busting arguments!"

"I see. I do not wish to 'bust my family'. But we will see what the future brings." She looked at Trel, who smiled patiently. "I guess it is good that I have no hair to pull."

Havah burst out laughing. "Well, since you are here, I wanted to ask you, Trel, if you still have any business connections on Earth?"

"Yes, quite a few. My mentor was a master artisan, she knew many affluent Humans in the trade, both buyers and other artisans."

"Good. I haven't made any decisions yet, but I may call on you to use those connections in the near future. Do you have any problems with that?"

"No, that would be logical."

Between the three of them, they polished off the contents of Birin's container. "Oh, man, Bir, we just finished all of your sweet death stuff. You know we have a similar dessert, at least in name, called 'Death by Chocolate'. I'm sorry! Your family sent you that!"

"It is fine, Havah, that is why I brought it. I cannot finish all of that by myself! Just give me some of your 'Death by Chocolate' if you ever get some."

"Not on duty. It's a…it acts like marijuana for Minbari!"

"What is marijuana?"

Trel piped in with his extensive knowledge of Human street substances, which appeared to have grown since the last time they had spoken. The man was a regular chemist. "It is a drug derived from a plant that grows natively across the North and South American continents. It produces a substance called a cannibinoid. In Human history, they have ingested and smoked this plant in order to derive a sensation of peace, well-being, and relaxation—"

"Thank you, Dr. Happy!" Havah cut in, as Bir looked a little too interested.

"That must be why chocolate is forbidden on the list of foreign foods. Because we are supposed to be able to derive that sensation from meditation."

"Uh, that would probably be a safe guess."

Bir still looked insatiably curious, and Trel just smiled angelicly.

_Great, why don't I just toss them a few pox-ridden blankets!_ Havah thought caustically.

But Trel continued. "Do not worry, Havah! I will contact my old mentor and start collecting information on her contacts."

"Thanks, Trel. And thank you very much for the treat, Bir! I'll bake a batch of shortbreads sometime before I leave for Earth or something. I'm going to be heading there to set up a few networks. I'll see you guys in a few days, or before I leave, in any case."

"I will look forward to it. Good night, Havah." Bir grabbed Trel by the hand and they headed out.

Just before they left, Havah remembered something she had wanted to ask more about. "Hey, you know what I did recently? I went with Katani's family to their thanksgiving ritual. They had a huge feast, and then they went down to the shore and sang all of these candles out onto the ocean. It was harmonic throat singing, and everyone did it! It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen! Can all Minbari do that so easily? It is a very hard skill for Humans to acquire."

Trel and Bir exchanged significant looks. "They let you hear that?…You must mean a great deal to Katani's family. That is one of the most ancient forms of both language and art among the Minbari. For an off-worlder to see it…Well, you must not be an off-worlder to them. It is also surprising that you were physically able to hear some of it. My understanding was that Human ears do not hear within entirely the same range as Minbari. But that just proves what an unusual Human you are, and that you are getting closer to us. We already knew that." Birin beamed, and they left.

_What a weird conversation._ Havah thought as she got ready for bed.

Ironically, the administrative assistant of the executive director of EAEMA, the Earth Alliance Emergency Management Agency, had just quit, without giving two weeks notice. So Sinclair found it easier than he might have, to get her assigned. It was an open competitive position. She passed the oral boards easily, and with a call from Sinclair, and from Carmen, her old supervisor, she had it. She was to leave straightaway. After helping Sinclair to dole out assignments to the other Anla Shok, and saying her goodbyes, she made ready to leave.

Her flyer was packed and she was about to board, when a lanky Minbari warrior leaned in front of the hatch. It was Neroon's aide. The hangar was empty. He gazed at her levelly for a few moments with light brown eyes. "For an Anla Shok, you are not very good at keeping secrets, or making sure that you cannot be heard. I heard everything you said the other day to your friend. In fact, I would not be surprised if half of Minbar heard you."

Her black eyes spit venom at him. She tired of this riposte before it began. "Are you finished? I have things to do!"

He glided up and stood in front of her, an inch from her, staring into her eyes. He might have been very handsome if she hadn't thoroughly detested the soldiers by now. "For once, you made a correct choice, Human! I will keep your secret as well. But I would recommend that you be more careful about your outbursts in the future. If Satai Neroon suffers for this, I will see to it that you are the one shamed!"

"Drop dead! And get out of my way, unless you want me to tell everyone that you were hanging around my ship with nothing better to do!"

He glared, indolently taking his time to move out of her path and swagger away. She flopped into the seat and punched a blank spot on the panel, and contemplated taping a doodle of his face there. Well, she was headed to Earth anyway, for a whole new set of problems. But it would be good to be home again.

Neroon had experienced enough of Havah Lassee's disrespect. It had taken more willpower than he cared to think about to restrain himself from throttling her, so he had let her go past him without further comment, knowing her next word would find his gloves about her throat. Delenn and Sinclair were bad enough! He meditated in his quarters to suppress all of the niggling annoyances that seemed to be conspiring against his efficiency in bringing Minbari policy and attention back to where it needed to be: on Minbar. After going over the Grey Council's proceedings for the past few years prior to Delenn's removal, and busying his eager aide with paperwork for a few hours, it was time to retire and he tried. Finally, he dropped off.

She was there. The sea-maiden. He could feel her luminous eyes upon him, and her silken fingers brushing his skin. He touched her soft lips with his hand and let it slide down her curves. Her eyes fed him. Finally someone who could see his heart, who knew him without talking. He must have known her before, another life perhaps? Her face morphed and Havah Lassee's coal-black eyes stared into his. All of his previous resentment flooded into him until he noticed her stagger back, face laced with pain. There was blood everywhere and she collapsed in front of him as dark terrible spider-like shapes closed in a circle around her. The sound of their warbling was the sound of the air rending. He rushed forward, beating back the shadows, but the girl faded into the ground before his eyes. He kneeled and felt the earth where she had been, but she didn't come back, and an inexplicable desperation and sorrow filled him. He fell forward and the shadows clustered in and pressed him down into fog. An alien gray face with elongated black eyes appeared before him.

He sat bolt-upright, blasted dreams! Nonsense! But as his feet hit the chilly floor he knew that he had seen that gray face before. Years ago, on a ship they now called a Stribe ship. They were grotesque beings with the same clinical view of other life forms as the Dilgar, although less aggressive, so far. He went to the computer and accessed the report he had given years ago, but it provided little illumination, except for one reference to a strange alien woman who had assisted in their escape, a woman with long black hair and golden eyes. Daybreak came slowly.

End Part II


	15. Chapter 15

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 15—The Dreaming

He remembered her now, the woman with the golden eyes. He had helped her to escape that cursed Stribe ship thirty-two years ago. How had he forgotten? After his rescue in the life pod, he had completed his report, and once he'd had the details down, had put the whole miserable experience far from his mind, so he could concentrate on his duties. There had been horrors on that ship that made even his warrior sensibilities balk. And there had been…what was her name? The memory of the old description he wrote of her made him uneasy. There had been hair on her head…like a Human. It would be typical for those base creatures to characterize one of the greatest moments of horror in his life. She had tried to speak to him, had called herself…He pushed the screen away in irritation. It hadn't been like him to forget any detail about a person he met. That was part of a warrior's skill set, to notice everything about people, their vulnerabilities, their characteristics, in case that information was needed later. But that name, if that was what she had been trying to tell him, was one of the few details he had left off of the report. _She called herself…F…_It had been an alien sound, _…F…_He must know! There was something about her, about this woman, some unfinished part of his memory and she was going to plague him with those liquid eyes until he remembered! And the images of her were getting stronger, without any revelations as to why. _They tinkered with my mind, those animals on the ship._ _I will have my past back. I will see what they would hide from me!_ He reviewed his options. A telepath? No. This was _his_ past. _My mind is my own, and these events were mine! No Mind Bender will go in and take them. I will go in and bring them out._ There was only one other way, a very traditional way, and he believed in traditional ways. The Dreaming.

He stood before various assembled Warrior Caste Elders.

"Why do you wish to undergo such a ritual, Satai?

Neroon replied evenly. "As you remember, I was a hostage of the Stribes, thirty-two years ago. In reviewing the files I have learned that there is history that has not been accounted for, and in the interests of security, I must uncover the remaining details. You must agree that such security is a priority, especially considering that our borders have been so indiscriminately opened to off-worlders!"

They all muttered and nodded in assent. "And," he added, "I want the truth. A warrior should not fear the truth."

"Very well. We will prepare the hall tomorrow evening in 18 solar hours. Who will stand for you?"

Felshenn stepped forward. "I will."

Neroon nodded to his aide. "I am appreciative of your loyalty, but it is not required in this."

"I understand. My decision remains." _Besides, you have no idea what waits for you. I do. No one else will be so prepared._

"I thank you, then." Neroon turned to the Council awaiting their acceptance.

"Then prepare yourself for the Dreaming."

Neroon and Felshenn bowed and left.

The following evening, the two soldiers waited apprehensively. The chamber was oppressive. An elder in full dress uniform boomed. "The Dreaming begins." Neroon and his aide were led to a small ornate panel with muted rhomboid abalone designs, behind which was a fluted chalice. He knew what was inside: sha' at, the minor death, the death of boundaries. The alkali liquid was extracted from the root of the chorka. It opened certain memory pathways in the mind, those targeted by the individual during the Dreaming. Another property it possessed was the tendency to temporarily activate latent telepathic receptors, due to the enhanced production of trace neurotransmitters in specific quantities and combinations, so that whatever memories the Dreaming individual was able to access could be witnessed by his or her companion. No one was truly alone during the Dreaming. And it was the deepest truth that whatever one had to fear, was what one brought with him in his own mind. _We seek out our own traps._ Neroon thought as the bitter resin coated his throat. His aide gulped in his turn and replaced the chalice in its alcove. They entered the fog behind the sliding doors as though stepping into the deeps of time itself in some ancient gas nebula. The fog clung to their clothes, the vapor webbing them around in a snare for whatever Neroon's visions had waiting. It penetrated his eyes, nose, lungs, tasteless, odorless, but he could feel every droplet as though all of his senses were amplified. Felshenn was beside him. He knew this because he could hear the boy's heartbeat, every breath whistling past the hairs in his nose, every push of blood through every capillary in the boy's extremities. He could feel the mumble of Felshenn's thoughts, but not quite hear them, like a low inaudible hum. And then he could hear his own, the exhalation and inhalation of nutrients in every cell, every neuron. And then time convulsed, and flowed backwards. Images flew through his mind so quickly that he had no time to focus on any one in particular until a few moments later, although it could have been days for all he could tell. He was on the ship.

_The mechanical claw and its torturous instruments, poked, probed, sensed. His dream body couldn't move in the restraints and he saw and felt a needle pierce his neck._ _Neroon-in-the-dream relaxed into unconsciousness. Another needle snaked into his leg and injected another fluid. Instead of a soporific, this time it was something else. Something he could not have felt but for his newly enhanced memory, right down to the cellular level. Whatever they had injected him with was alive, and invading his cells. They were being transported through his blood, masked from the immune system within his own macrophages. They finally released themselves from their hosts in his testes, and invaded the zygotes._ They infected me with a disease!_ His present watching self raged._ _He could feel the flu-like ache in his body, as the microbes replicated, and the intolerable itching in his genitalia for the next few days as they completed their journey and cellular conversion, and then the symptoms subsided. None of this he had remembered at the time, only the haze of the tranquilizer. A device was fitted to his temple, just beside the bone, with some kind of adhesive gel. He could feel the pulse of its energy but had no other indication of what it did. His dream self was too groggy to notice it, as he was transported into a room with another being. It was the woman he remembered. She was unconscious. And his dream-self faded in and out of consciousness. After a few minutes and total silence, she stirred. Wisps of long hair escaped from under a black folded veil, and her face was sculpted and graceful. She opened her eyes, confused and dismayed, and realized she was not alone. She slipped lightly off the table and approached him, laying her warm hands on his shoulder. His dream self felt nothing at the time but an approaching alien, and he was through with aliens._ _His present self felt the warmth of her hands a second before his dream self trapped her arms and picked her up by her neck. She was terrified. He could see that in her fire-colored eyes. She was no threat to him. He could feel the arteries pulse in her soft throat, and dropped her. The fire in her eyes was in her spirit too, as she backed away from him, intent on gouging out his eyes if he neared her again. He held out his hand to demonstrate peace. Not too close. Who knew what this feral alien might do? She eyed him cagily. He had frightened her. He could see her trembling, and repressed a pang of regret. Whatever she was, she was really quite beautiful, the most exotic creature he had ever seen. Her purple dress hung slightly open as she moved, and he averted his eyes, but not before glimpsing smooth olive flesh and feline curves. She noticed the content of his stare and he could feel the heat in her face as she blushed and closed the folds of fabric, tugging and straightening the headdress._ Modesty, _perhaps she was sentient after all._ What in Valen's name was I thinking? Why was I not thinking harder about escape? _As if in answer to his present self's indignation, Neroon-in-the-memory regained his awareness of their unfortunate surroundings, touched his temple and motioned to her forehead, at which was affixed a device like the one he wore. These devices could not bode well, placed there as they were by their captors. They should be taken off. Perhaps they were—before he could finish the thought, a force penetrated his brain originating from the device. It was a trigger of some sort, a direct electromagnetic trigger to the hypothalamic center of his brain and endocrine system, stimulating an overwhelming surge of male hormone with more strength than he had ever felt. No coherent thought was possible in the events that followed, only emotion. The woman had been affected too. He could see it and feel her pheromones across the couple of feet between them._ Stay away from me, stay away from me! You do not know what you do in coming near me now!

_Either she could not hear his thoughts or didn't care, because she slid off of the table again and approached him fearlessly, her hungry breath in his ear and seeking fingers on his chest, pulling his tunic from his shoulders. His body responded as he grabbed her arms and met her full lips hard, pulling the veil off. She put her hands on the edges of fabric as if to stop him, but then laced them around the back of his head, running her fingers across his crest. Underneath the covering was a regal black mane, the color of the veil that shrouded it, but wilder. Fire ran through his groin as his fingers weaved through the soft tangled strands. His hands moved down her back, desperate for every inch of her skin, as he pulled her tighter against him, feeling the press of her curves. His only thought apart from the demands of his body was a tender hope that he wouldn't hurt her with his ferocity. But she was stronger than she looked, far stronger, and every bit as fiercely desiring of him. _

_Four times he knew her like this, relentless, savage, and exquisite. And then they either exhausted themselves, or the devices shut off. He cradled her head, as she sighed contentedly against his chest, every muscle fiber shaking. She reached to grab the head-dress, shyly, but he pulled her to him again. She smiled and curled against his chest. He stroked her damp mane, smelling a faint fragrance, like moonflowers. As he began to gather his thoughts, a drug was piped into the room. He realized it at the same moment that he realized it was too late, and clutched her to him protectively, as consciousness slipped away again. Neroon-in-the-present saw his body being transported again into another room and the mysterious woman being taken somewhere else. His body was bound and his mind, even unconscious was raging._ What have you done with her! If you harm her, I will spill every last drop of your blood! _A telepath sliced into his mind as he lay helpless, and stole even the memories of his sea-nymph. Neroon-in-the-present tried to loosen fists that were clenched with fury, his breathing was ragged, and the Dreaming continued to unfold. They floated him again into a room with another alien woman, this time a Centauri by the look of her bare scalp. But this time, as he awoke, golden eyes filled his mind as he looked at the woman. He had no idea who they belonged to, but they were a warning. He reached instinctively to his temple, as if finishing a thought and ripped off the device there, parts of skin came off with it, but he flung it across the room. The woman screamed as he grabbed her and tore the device from her head, freeing her from some danger he wasn't certain of. She clawed at his face, and he blocked her hand and she ran from him just as he could feel the colorless gas fill the room. There was no time to follow her and try to explain. He had to find someone else, another woman, the one who had warned him. Perhaps she had been a telepath, one with yellow-green eyes. When he burst out of the room, he encountered large-headed gray aliens with glassy eyes, his captors. Their flesh was broken before him. He had to find her! Find who? And then he forced his way into an examining chamber, and there she was, strapped to another table. Sleeping or drugged. He didn't understand how, but knew that somehow this was the woman who had just warned him. The harshness of her restraints only made him angrier. What if she didn't awaken? He shook her, hard. She stirred and he masked his relief as those huge limpid eyes opened on his face in bewilderment. He broke the bindings on her wrists and ankles, as she struggled to free herself, glancing at him gratefully. Her face was familiar, but recognition edged out of his grasp. He tossed her the garments he'd acquired, grabbed her wrist and they ran down corridors ending up in a dimly lit storage room. It was storing test subjects, just like themselves, but many were far worse off. Some appeared to be infected with one or another illnesses, some appeared to be missing limbs, some, the nature of their maladies, insults, or injuries were unseen. The woman's beautiful eyes filled with horror and resolve, and she began trying to free as many of the captives as possible. After only a few moments, he caught a whiff of the nerve gas and turned to grab his companion, but didn't have to tell her. She had figured it out and was trying to herd the freed subjects towards the door. They were thronging the now-closed entrance, barring his access to the panel that may release the catch if he could only get into it. Golden Eyes was looking faint, and she understood what was happening, as she pulled at scrambling aliens to let him through. He wrenched at the panel, tearing his palms, methodically testing crystals and wires. He glanced at the woman to see how she was faring. _More time, I need more time! Hold on, just a little—_She collapsed, strands of her hair spilling across his feet, like unwoven zyrka silk._ NO! _Two of the wires triggered the door release and it slid open. _

_He was waiting for their captors on the other side, two of them, with bulbous gray heads and elongated black eyes. He knocked their guns from their hands as he came from around the door where he had hidden as the hatch opened, and tore their windpipes from their throats. Another neck he snapped in a full 180 degree twist, and another's heart he stopped by punching clear into the chest, although that had been a fortunate guess. He pulled the limp woman onto his shoulders and grabbed two other prostrate test subjects and dragged them into the hall and behind a wall before more grays came. Golden Eyes looked up at him half-drugged. He needed her awake, or he would have to carry her and two other aliens, and that would be considerably more difficult if he couldn't find escape pods. He slapped her before he could think about his reluctance to hit her. Shock livened her eyes. Her demeanor as she glanced around said she understood his purpose, just as more shots came at them. After what he had just seen in the holding chamber, the puny bolts seemed to offer a much preferable death, and he dodged the fire easily, sidestepping and making short shrift of the ill-prepared grays. They were obviously not fighters. And neither was Golden Eyes, by the look of it. She was flailing her arms and legs, clawing at the faces of the grays, a couple of whom were torn and beaten, and she kept raking. She had clearly never been taught to fight in any skilled way, but her spirit almost made up for what she lacked in training. _Perhaps she has the blood of a warrior yet. _He thought with admiration, as he pulled her off a ravaged gray body, casting her against the wall before she could turn her nails on him. She realized who had grabbed her, and looked confused as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down a hallway that he had passed in his search for her, leaving the uprising behind them. The grays were occupied. They no longer had control, and the doom of vengeance was upon them. Something made him think there were escape pods there. He was right. An explosion shook the floor. There was no time. He shoved Golden Eyes into one of the pods._ At least I can keep her alive, for the next few minutes.

_As he went to shut her door, she grabbed him. _What are you doing, woman? There's no time!

_She placed her hand on her chest and spoke foreign syllables, her name. Fatima Lassee. He didn't know whether Fatima or Lassee was her family name, but it wouldn't much matter since they were not going to the same place, and would not be rescued from the pods before their oxygen ran out._

Sigh, futile courtesy in the face of death. But it is nice to have known her name. _He returned the answer more curtly than he meant, "Neroon, of the family of Callier." _Now you must go!

_Before he could shut the door again, and before he realized her intent, her slender hands slid around the sides of his face and she kissed him sensually on the lips. Regardless of her alien-ness, there was no mistaking that gesture among any race he knew. He was so shocked that he could only stare for a moment, a moment neither of them could spare, wishing not for the first time that this oddly persistent woman had been Minbari. He stole one more second and ran his fingers through her remarkable hair and down the soft skin of her face, knowing that he would never see the fierce gold light in her eyes again. He allowed himself one twinge of sorrow, smiled at her and shut the door._

The past rebounded and Neroon was back wholly in the present, surrounded by swirling mist. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a stone bench, completely drained by what he had seen. _They infected me! I joined with a…a Human! That woman was Human, I have seen enough Humans by now to know. And my heart was joined to her as well as my blood. _He could no longer deny that. Her eyes had appeared to him on the ship in the time of need and for years afterwards because they were burned into his soul. It was those eyes that had kept him from taking a Minbari wife, or even lover. There had been a determined young woman a few cycles ago, and he had tried. He had agreed to continue the relationship through three dedication ceremonies. And then, on the first night of the Secret Face ritual, she had risen mournfully, tears in her eyes, after shaking him awake to let him know she was leaving and ending their courtship. When he asked if she was alright, what he had done to drive her away, she replied that it was not his fault, but his heart belonged to someone already, and it was not her. Now he knew. His heart had belonged, since that dark day on the alien ship in the wastes of space, to a golden-eyed woman named Fatima Lassee, a Human. How dreadfully ironic! How could she have come from such a race? Weak, inconstant peculiar creatures. But there are those who shine among every race. She was the best of them, had been. Where was she now? She was not Minbari, so it mattered little. All he could hope for was that she was alive and well, but that part of their lives was over before it even began. What happened between them was an atrocity. _It should never have happened_! _That is Minbari law! Minbari only take Minbari as mates. It was neither of our faults that we were joined, but I must move on now, now that I know the truth. _But a dullness crept in when he thought of the future events of his life spanning before him…without her.

That moment was perhaps the most vulnerable Felshenn had ever seen his teacher and superior officer. The older man's ashen face looked old now, and weary. He sat down beside him and waited for the shock to wear off. The Human's words in the glen had not prepared him for the intensity of events he had just witnessed. Still, no matter how terrible the events he had just seen, Felshenn could not look at the man beside him as a victim of the abomination that had been visited upon him. He was one of the strongest and greatest men Felshenn had ever seen, under such circumstances, to have endured so much, and still kept his name and his honor! He was filled with a swell of pride in the old soldier.

Neroon had her name. He could at least find out her status, alive or dead. Fatima Lassee…LASSEE! Was this a common human family name? Was she a distant relative of the annoying young…Anla Shok. He shuddered to call that queer little mercenary by that title. But something in the pit of his stomach turned over. His bizarre dream of Havah came back to him, strong in the ethereal fog, the sense of loss he had felt when she vanished amidst the Shadows. She looked a little like Fatima. It was the long black hair, the arch of her nose, her eyebrows, the curve of her lips. He shook off disgust at the comparison. She didn't have the golden eyes. Her eyes were more like his…marble-dark…She was half Minbari…_In Valen's Name! NO!…_He leaped up, with suddenly renewed agility and rushed from the chamber, and past the waiting elders. One called to his quickly receding back, "Satai Neroon, now is the time for rest!"

He whirled. "I do not need rest. I need an investigation." He turned and charged on, dogged by Felshenn.

"Na! You seek information about the girl!"

Neroon turned again, slowly. "Yes…How did you know?"

Felshenn took a deep breath. "I know about her. I overheard her talking to someone, a friend. She had just had an encounter with you and was very upset. She told this friend about you, about what she was. She wished to keep it a secret, but her distress made her indiscreet…That is one of the reasons I wished to stand for you. I already knew."

Neroon stopped, drew a long sigh and stared at him, pondering. "I see…And this friend?"

"It was her wish that he tell no one. He will keep his promise…I have other assurances as well."

He nodded slowly. "Well, it is now your duty to tell them what you saw. I must confirm this by blood." He stalked into the gloom before Felshenn could respond. Felshenn returned to the elders and made his report. They were flabbergasted. But why should they have been. _Really_, he thought, _Satai Neroon was captured after all, with no memory of what had happened. We know that there are races who engage in such truck as genetic engineering, the Vorlons have already done it to DELENN, while she was a grown Minbari! The pieces do not require an engineer to put together. Once such an event occurs once…_The elders discussed amongst themselves what the next actions should be. "This is for Satai Neroon to handle. We are sworn to silence in this matter for now." They agreed, leaving one another with significant stares. A Human woman!

Neroon roused Koplann from bed. The old man gazed groggily at him as though he had grown another head. "Have you taken leave of your senses? What do you require at this hour?"

"Tell me what you know about the Human, Havah Lassee."

Koplann frowned at his driven friend. Neroon was clearly agitated, and there were dark caverns under his eyes. "You know most of it already. We brought her aboard during the Line. We tested her, and the Triluminary indicated, as did the telepath, although you have your reservations about this, that she had a Minbari soul. And as it happens, she also has some Minbari genetics. She is a half-breed. If you are looking for an answer as to how and by whom, we have only speculation, and very little of that even. Perhaps she is another of the Vorlon's twisted experiments. As you know their hold on us is too strong, hence our appointment of another warrior to the Council."

"You know nothing of her parentage?"

"Well, her records say that she was adopted after her Human mother died…during the birth, as I understand. The father…we meant to search the genetic records of all military or merchants known to be off-world months before her birth, but as you also know, most non-essential inquiries of that nature have been postponed for now. We have been somewhat too busy with controlling the damage done to our political system by would-be religious caste prophetesses. It is unlikely that the father was religious caste. They rarely left homeworld in those days." He spat dourly.

"What was the mother's name?" Neroon's face was intense, hovering over an abyss for an answer.

"In the name of Valen, what is going on?…I don't remember…I will retrieve the record. Why is it so important at this moment?" Koplann trudged to his computer, shaking sleep from his limbs, not liking how much effort that was taking these days.

"I may know the identity of the father."

Koplann looked up at him. "You're serious." He pulled the record. "The mother's name was Fatima Lassee." He turned the screen around so that his agitated peer could see the picture of the woman.

The weight of a neutron star crashed into Neroon's chest, and he fought to remain standing. It was her, his beloved Golden Eyes. She had survived! She had survived and then died giving birth..to _his_ child…_to that half…that experiment of Stribe perversion…they killed Fatima after all…I killed her…Havah…_Fatima had come to life again in his mind, and now she was gone for good this time.

"Neroon!" Koplann stood before him. He had never seen the warrior look like this before. His face was haggard with the effort of controlling some great agony that had hit him in the last few moments. "Are you ill?"

Neroon looked at him with haunted eyes, boiling rage just one layer underneath. "She was mine."

"What?" His friend was no longer making any sense, and then the realization dawned. "WHAT?…You can't be…" Koplann lost all ability to finish his sentences in his disbelief.

"Think. You remember when I was captured. I didn't remember everything. Well, I have gone though the Dreaming, and now I do. I remember the woman's name. I remember everything. Havah Lassee is my child." He sat exhausted, looking into Koplann's amazed eyes.

"Do you have blood proof of this? Are you certain?"

"Not yet, but I will be. And I know already. I feel it, Koplann." He related everything, the content of the Dreaming, the content of his more pedestrian dreams about Golden Eyes, and about Havah, and what his aide had discovered from Havah's confidence.

After listening to the whole tale, Koplann nodded. "I swear my silence, old friend, unless you request otherwise. I will have her genetic records pulled for you tomorrow, so you can confirm this discreetly…What will you do?"

Neroon stood, painfully. He was not so old for a Minbari, perhaps middle-aged, but he felt millennia older than that now. "I do not know."

Three-quarters of the way to Earth, Havah stared at the console without seeing it. Alien words and phrases whirled in her head like a coriolis storm. Minbari words. The world and its people had had a far more profound effect on her than she had anticipated before returning to Earth. And her role in whatever came was becoming more and more unsettling to her, pieces of a dark fresco emerging from under centuries of grime with swipe after swipe. _Shok duol'aa_, Neroon's lanky aide had muttered as he strode off, his breath cast to the whispers of air around them, after threatening to shame her. But she had caught it. _Shok_—essence/soul, _duol_—darkness, _'aa_—the clicking word deep in the throat, she hadn't been familiar with. She had asked Trel about it and watched a flush come to his face as she spoke the phrase. He had hesitated, unsure of how to explain.

"There are legends among Humans about non-Humans who share your world, yes? Called sometimes faeries? And these legends featured beings that took the place of Humans, and that no one could tell the difference until it was too late? You called them…Changelings, yes?"

"Yes." The hairs on Havah's arms quivered.

"Well, we do not have the same legends exactly, but that would be the best comparison for the expression _shok duol'aa_. Do you remember anything you learned about the Cold Times?"

"Yes. The Minbari came ashore and made homes."

"And fought with another race for dominance, you remember this?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, even though none of those beings, the Kal 'tot, have been seen for centuries, perhaps millennia, it was believed that they could return to destroy the Minbari in secret. My mother used to tell me that I must always tell the truth, all Minbari must, because if we did not, then the Skin Stealers would come and take our bodies and bring about the end of the Minbari. '_Tot_' means theft. _Shok 'tot_, soul hunter/stealer, _Kal 'tot_, Skin Stealer. You see? They are also called _shok 'duol'aa_, a soul who wanders through time and infects other bodies. In essence, it means someone who is not what they seem, whose true face is always masked, even in sleep. That…" His color deepened. "…is what you were called by some after Proxima Three, because you appeared to be a Minbari warrior, but were an enemy. And after the Battle of the Line, the mystery about you deepened, because it was said that even as a Human, you were not as you appeared, except to the Grey Council, and they revealed nothing."

"A demon. A changeling."

"In our sense, yes."

She had mulled on this most of the way to Earth. Another memory joined it. She had stopped briefly on Babylon 5. An uneventful trip really, except for one feature that stood out like a flare of light in a murky cave. On her way to Delenn's quarters she had bumped into a Centauri woman, in the characteristically ornate dress of their race. She had reached out to steady the woman, who had stumbled, and as the woman grabbed her arms to keep from falling, she looked into Havah's eyes. The physical contact must have acted as an electric jolt to the woman because she gasped, and her voice was sonorous. The woman's Centauri male companion and a few others, including a passing Minbari male, looked on curiously at the sound of the woman's voice and the change in the air.

"A formidable past you have, and a more formidable future, child of Callier. _Shok sha'esh thean_,. Across centuries you have traveled, and you will remain until you have ridden the darkness that you have returned to finish." Havah could only stiffen at the words and start to withdraw. The woman let go of Havah's arm, and backed up, dark eyes boring into her, tripping the memory of Havah's dreams, dreams of battle and annihilation and the scream of the soul-destroying ships. She glanced at the Minbari who stood watching. His face had gone pale, paler than usual for a Minbari, and he was staring not at the strange woman, but at Havah. The Centauri had spoken a Minbari phrase. A very interesting one. The woman's companion had nodded apologetically to Havah, the fan of his hair bobbing slightly, and put his hand on his partner's arm.

"I apologize for my sister. Some of our people think she is gifted with Sight, but she has never learned to wait for people to ask their fortune instead of casting their boons at them. Darisha!" He ordered and pulled her away down the hall. Only the Minbari remained, searching Havah's reaction. Then becoming aware of the impropriety of his stare, he nodded to her and retreated to his business. _Shok sha-esh thean_. Soul-Lost-in-the-Deeps-of-Time. Not an encouraging message. The phrase had a particular distinction. In Minbari belief, all beings had a purpose, but _shok sha'esh thean_ was a lost soul, someone who could be lost for any number of reasons: capture by a Soul-Hunter, or a losing of unconscious purpose which guides all beings through life, a disturbance in the passage of space-time which alters future possibilities, a soul-sickness. _Shok sha'esh thean_ was someone lost in the maze of time and infinite possibilities, who has yet to find their way back to the world-soul. Havah shivered in the cramped quarters and shook off the memory.

It had been a few weeks, and Havah was as settled in as she was going to get. This federal office was nothing like the position she had been in on Babylon 5. This place was lavish in accoutrements, the offices furnished, with obscene amounts of space, mahogany paneling, and ornate moulding in imitation of Victorian-age architecture. The atmosphere was tense, officious, and impersonal. In comparison, despite its status as a federal office, the epidemiology department on Babylon 5 had been woefully cramped, but it had been somewhat casual despite the frenetic pace. This office was in the thick of the politics. It was the perfect place to keep her finger on the pulse of Earth Gov, in fact, there was no avoiding it. Her supervisor, Edward Jensen was an austere man in his late forties, impeccably dressed in a non-descript wool suit. Her time was closely watched here. She had arrived a minute late that morning and he had asked her in his clipped speech, after giving her a pile of papers, "So, did you run into traffic?"

"No, just running late."

"I see. Please have these drafts reviewed by noon."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be in a meeting for the remainder of the morning. Take all calls. Have you reviewed the internal emergency readiness plan for the tabletop exercise next week?"

"Yes sir."

"And the progress report from the last exercise, the presentation?"

"I sent it to you, sir, you have to review it and give it back to me."

"Oh, of course."

He left for a meeting.

She scoured the room, feigning organization and filing duties, scanning for bugs, in order to place her own. She took down one of the kitchy oil paintings next to the door. The canvas in the frame was slightly frayed. Her camera was a baby-hair filament easily lodged in the canvas fibers. The picture hung to cover the hair, leaving enough space for a full view of the entrance to his office. Every time he came in, every time anyone came or went into his office, she would have a record of it. This would have to do until she could wire a decoder into Jensen's office access panel. She popped outside for a breath of fresh air. It was late spring and the climate control was already blasting frigid air throughout the buildings. The sun felt warm as she crossed the quad to the cafeteria. As she sat down amidst clots of people, talking and eating, she noticed again how homogenous they were. She had never been in this complex until a few weeks ago, so this could have been the case all along, but after the stay on Babylon 5, there was to her a striking lack of alien presence. The Minbari had been nearly as homogenous throughout their entire planet. But that was different. They had never had Humans or any other race present before. If her memories of Earth in the past served her, all kinds of species had been wont to visit Earth. Well, this was a federal installation, so perhaps it was not surprising that there was little variety. It was a Human government, and her building was emergency management, in which there was high security and little alien interaction. The place felt so closed. She ate her lunch alone, pretending to read a book, but listening to the tone of conversations around her. A woman was complaining about her current love interest, and her children, and her ex-husband. At the table to the side of her, a crisp-looking man was remarking to an older man on the establishment of the Ministry of Peace, and the new foreign policy.

"…just what we needed. I think we're headed in the right direction. Our economy's really suffered in the past year."

"Yeah, but do you think cutting out our foreign interests is going to help that? Won't it cut down our revenue?"

"We're not cutting off foreign interests. We're just reserving Human businesses for Humans. No reason the other races have to stop buying from us, they'll just buy from Human owned businesses. And we'll be re-investing in Earth. That's the way things should be. If all these other races start coming in and taking over spots formerly held by Humans, then Humans lose because that business goes off-world and our people are cut out. This is still our planet. Besides, the new focus on Earth is good because we're returning to older values. That's all gone to hell in the past few years, ever since we've been pouring money into the Babylon Project. Look at the kids these days! Always imitating aliens, alien fashions, alien shows, alien ideas. Do you know what I saw the other day? A young woman with her head shaved just like the Centauri! She was dressed Human alright, but no daughter of mine would shave her head! And then, in the same day, in the same high school no less, I saw a boy dressed like a Minbari! My brother fought in the war, and boy, if that'd been _his_ kid…I don't know what they're teaching kids today!"

"I don't think it's so bad, kids are kids. They experiment with all kinds of things, always have."

"Yeah, but there's something wrong with our methods if all they can find to experiment with are alien cultures. What's wrong with Earth cultures, there's plenty of them?"

"I really don't think that it's as thought out as all that. Kids always want the most exotic and most unlike what they see around them, so of course they'll choose alien cultures. The foreign is more appealing than anything you can get at home, simply because it is foreign. When they get older, they'll appreciate their home more. I was like that when I was a crazy kid too."

"But you grew out of it."

"And so will they."

"I don't know, I just think it's good that we're considering more what we're giving them on television and in our media and all. The Ministry of Peace has the right idea in funding this Nightwatch organization. It's irresponsible of the media to keep tossing all of these dissenting ideas out there without framing the context for people. They don't get a coherent idea of what's right or wrong or what Earth is all about. It's too confusing. People like simplicity. We're lazy, and so be it. When I come home from a long day at work, I don't want to be bombarded with political agitants or all kinds of nouveau-philosophy. I want to relax."

"Eh, I rather like the variety. And there are some interesting ideas out there."

"I'm sure there are, that's not the point. Some ideas can be dangerous. Look at the rumor about our President being an assassin. How absurd! Smaller things have gotten people impeached and disrupted the whole government. All functioning comes to a complete halt when nonsense scandals like that are allowed to grow. And the people who foster them, that's exactly what they want, counter-productivity."

"Ok, now I agree that such things are a nuisance, but I don't think they are indicative of some kind of subversive plot to undermine the functioning of Earth Gov. That's a little extreme. And people have a right to think what they want."

"But not to say what they want. You can't shout 'fire' in a crowded theater. It threatens the lives of others. What about our right to be safe? And President Clark is only doing what is best for Earth."

"It's up to Earthers to decide what's best for us. He works for us. That's what a government 'of the people' is. You can't limit people's ability to use their voice because that's the only way that we have to express what is best for us instead of letting someone else make all the decisions based only on their own views. Our system of government is supposed to protect against that. And I really don't think that people voicing their opinions is threatening the well-being or lives of the general populace. You just can't take that away."

"It's not being taken away. The Ministry of Peace isn't threatening anyone. They're not arresting people or even blackballing anyone in media or entertainment. They are just asking innocent questions to get a feel for the landscape and what people need, and making suggestions as to the direction of media and business content. And they're trying to assist in containing damaging unfounded rumors that don't benefit anyone. That's it!…*Sigh* You are such a liberal…"

They both chuckled. And the older man spoke. "Well, see, now, we've taken up the whole lunch with this debate. Care to argue again tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I'd prefer to talk about more satisfying things."

"Eh, wuss."

They both laughed again, gathered their things and left.

_He's trying to sweep Santiago's skeleton under the carpet. That's one of the tasks of the Ministry. To use nationalism as a smoke-screen against anyone who asks their own questions. How clever. That's never been done before! _Havah thought sarcastically. She tossed the rest of her lunch and headed back to the office.

That night she met her cousin at Big Johnnie's Barbecue. It was an old Southern barbecue place presided over by Big Johnnie. Big Johnnie had earned his name, a cheerful Black man weighing in at over 400 pounds. He had lugged his antique charcoal-pit barbecue from Mobile, Alabama to the rolling hills of Geneva because nothing could duplicate the taste of his grill. And nothing could. His warm restaurant was as much soul as it was food. It had broad booths and tables with colorful plastic tablecloths, and license and vanity plates from all over the galaxy on the walls. Old Detroit blues, jazz, and hard rock piped from the crystal port speakers, and kids yelled from the VR games in the corner as people smacked their lips, chowed, and talked. And chowed and chowed and chowed. It was one of those places that you could sit all day, if you had the day, and eat, talk until you were hungry again and order more as Big Johnnie thundered out to say hi and check on his flock. And the shop was situated at the back of a cul du sac flanked by two chocolatiers and a tavern, for which Havah had dubbed the entire strip Heart Attack Alley.

"Hey, Butter-head! This way!" Her cousin Karen waved jubilantly from a table near the back. The place was packed. Karen shrieked and grabbed Havah in a bear hug. "Hay, cuz! What are you doing here? I thought you were in outer space! Hahahaha!"

"I sort of got transferred here."

"What did you start a plague or something? Hahaha! We're going to see Monkey Brains later. Now you must come with us!"

"Maybe. I gotta get up early though."

"Oh, Dude! You haven't been back to Earth for a while, you must take time and party!…I understand. So what're you doing in Biohazard Land?"

They stopped to order their food. Havah got two orders of hot wings, a Kansas City beef brisket sandwich, and a slice of sweet potato pie. Karen ogled at her.

"Dude! Where are you storing that food, man!

Havah was starting to store it everywhere. In the few weeks she had been home, she must've put on all of the weight she had lost on Minbar, and then a couple more pounds. Her pants were rapidly growing more snug than she liked. And the truth was that while she had enjoyed Minbari food much more than she thought she would, still, nothing had compared to Human cuisine. And the only comparable fare on the station had been Centauri food. Those people loved to eat, almost as much as they liked to drink and screw, three points of similarity that they seemed to share with Humans. The smell of the fire-seared chicken and barbecue sauce was maddening. And when the food came a few moments later, Havah began snarfing the wings as soon as they hit the table, engaging in conversation with smears of spicy buffalo sauce ringing her mouth.

Karen laughed and dug in. "Dude, you had better call or go see your mom more often. You know why? Because every time you don't, I get to hear about it from my mom! She's freaking out, man. Ok, that's it! I told her I would tell you. So, that was my two cents."

Karen was the daughter of Rebecca Goldman's sister. Havah was struck suddenly by what a Minbari name Karen was. But Karen herself was nothing like a Minbari, nothing like any other Human for that matter. She was a force of nature really. A sharp-eyed county attorney who moonlit as a bartender, Karen had a laugh that could be heard for miles, while she could often only be glimpsed as a blur of constant motion, Guinness pint glasses and grins. She lived life at the pace of hyperspace in real-time. "So, what are you doing now? Are you still doing your epidemiology?" She sucked the meat off a wing.

"Sort of. Not really. I guess I'm sort of a coordinator for emergency readiness. I organize stuff for the director, sort of like an admin assistant. The only thing I'm doing related to public health directly is that I had to go for this vaccine a few weeks ago. It's experimental. We're the first group to get it in a while. For the Grey-Wind Fever."

"Man, I thought that was eradicated, like 75 years ago wasn't it?"

"Yeah, on Earth. They have this idea that it may have survived in a couple other species, so they're immunizing people in health and emergency offices. That way if it hits again, we can tend to the rest of the population. It's a new vaccine though, and I think we're the guinea pigs."

"Wow." Karen took a slurp of pop. "Do they think something might happen?"

"I doubt it. I think it's just in line with the renewed interest in emergency management. That's getting all the funding right now."

"Ahhha. Money, baby. That's what talks. Actually it's good that you got that job. Surprising because of where you worked. They're kind of down on the Babylon Project here, and they're not crazy about your old boss."

"Who Carmen?"

"No, the other guy, he was on Babylon 5, Sinclair. Man, they've been spouting all kinds of stuff about him." She nodded and tapped her head. "I hear all the dirt." She snapped her fingers.

"What kinds of stuff?"

"Oh, like that the Minbari have him in their pocket and are trying to use him to get into Earth Gov. Paranoid stuff." She whirled her finger at her temple. "Hello! They're allies! So, Germ Girl, are you coming to Monkey Brains?"

"Ah, I don't know." They talked about other things, her aunt, her other relatives, her other cousin Julie's doctoral tribulations, and how they both wanted to break Julie's ex-boyfriend's legs for being a schmuck. And finally, Havah was artfully badgered into seeing the band, and she was glad she did. It was nice to get out amidst the blare of music. She'd get plenty of sleep at the end of her life. Besides the Anla Shok were trained in going long stretches without sleep, after all.

After having been away from Earth for two years, she finally took a weekend and visited her family, figuring it would be a while before she'd get another chance.

"Well hello, darling!" Havah's mother came towards her with her arms outstretched. "Oh it's been far too long since I've gotten hugs from my children, with your sister away at Peabody, and you across the galaxy! At least I can visit her on the weekends, for the few minutes a day that she's not rehearsing, but you! Give me another hug! I'm saving them up for when you go away again."

Havah's father poked his white-ringed head out of the study and limped down the stairs to greet Havah. "Hi!"

"Hi Dad. How have you been?"

"Oh…good…good. How are you doing?"

"Ok." Havah could hear him wheezing across the distance between them. "Dad, have you been doing your walking?"

"No, he hasn't. He's been burying himself in work." Her mother cast him a meaningful glance. Her father just looked at his wife, gave a sheepish smile and stared into space for a second.

"Maybe just a little mild asthma…"

"Dad, you're wheezing and you haven't even moved. How is that mild?…You are a doctor, right? That's not in any way mild, and you know it!" Havah glared at him.

Her mom sighed knowingly, and her father just snorted in that Rain Man way he had of looking abashed and at the same time completely ignoring her. Escaping onto the back of the autism bus…That was all either one of the women said about the matter. They had both tried to get him to take care of his health, but he was going to do what he was going to do. Her mom had spread out bagels and lox, noodle kugel, and tuna salad with the peas and crunchy Chinese noodles they all liked. Tovah was still away at school, so it was just the three of them.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're home! So tell me about your new job!"

_Oh boy, here it goes._ "There's not much to tell really. I'm just doing emergency management, I've been involved with that before."

"I know, but it sounds like this is a really big job, working in the central federal offices."

Havah shrugged. Her dad inhaled his food and looked at her quizzically, and then asked her, "So, Dr. Hermele said that this Ministry of Peace is really taking off. Boy, it's a good position to be in, where you are. Will you be working with them at all?"

Havah cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I might."

Her mother's eyes were sharp. "Havah, are you alright?"

Havah sat in silence. And then, "Yeah." More silence, except for the sound of her dad slurping his beer.

"Is there something worrying you?"

"No. Just starting a new job. My new supervisor's kind of uptight, and I don't always get along so well with people like that."

"I know. That's why I was surprised when you joined Earthforce out of school. But you had some things to work out."

"Yeah…Sorry."

"Well, teenagers are teenagers. And you haven't even started this job yet. You thought Carmen was going to be uptight too, and then it turned out that you were crazy about her. You were working for the federal government on Babylon 5, and on Minbar. The people there weren't too uptight were they?"

"No. But I'm not sure about the Ministry of Peace." Her parents were both fairly liberal and very vocal about politics, particularly while eating, but she'd never had the chance since all of this started to find out their take on the new administration.

"Oi," Mrs. Goldman waved her hand and rolled her eyes. "Well, you know what we think. It's starting to sound like the foundation of Psi Corps, and the McCarthy era, all this paranoia about aliens and purity of Human culture. But you know what? The pendulum swings all the time. This won't last. People are just shaken up by the assassination. He was very popular here, you know, with good reason. He was one of the most innovative leaders Earth Alliance has seen for decades. I was really happy with him."

"Yeah, so was I. You really think things'll turn around? What about Clarke?"

"What about him? Och, he's atrocious, but that's why there are term limits. I don't think he'll get re-elected and the next person in office will probably be more like Santiago. I'm telling you, people haven't forgotten his popularity, even the conservatives. There are a lot of people who are very unhappy with Clarke right now, for abandoning Santiago's ideas and I don't think that the changes he's making will last."

"But he's claiming to be loyal to Santiago, and playing all that nationalistic garbage and using Santiago's memory to distract people. Ooh, look at the shiny new Ministry logo!"

"Oh Havah, stop being so melodramatic! I know he is. But you know what? People aren't that stupid."

"Really, I'm not so sure about that. I've been hearing a lot of people just coasting right along with everything the Ministry of Peace says."

"For now maybe, but it won't last. You can only use jingoism for so long before people start wanting to hear some substance, and if you have nothing worth saying, then you lose your constituency."

"I wish I had your faith."

"I know you're angry. You've always been angry. But I'm a lot older than you, so I've seen more, and I know that getting angry about things like this doesn't do anything but make you miserable. You do what you can, and then try to deal with the world the way it is. Will you have to work closely with the Ministry people?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that might be something you want to consider. I assume you have a probationary period, like any other federal position."

"Yeah."

"Remember, that probationary period is for you to figure out whether you want to be there, not just for them to decide whether they want you. It sounded like Ambassador Sinclair was very fond of you, and it will take him a while to find another attaché. So you may have another option, but why not see what this is like before you make any decisions."

Her dad piped in, as though he had pushed a rewind button on their conversation of five minutes ago. "So you don't like Clarke. 'Human people should be in charge of Human business…'" Her father lapsed into an uncomplimentary high tenor imitation of Clarke and then let out a good-natured belly laugh, shaking his finger at an imaginary crowd. "'The Ministry helps Earth Alliance citizens have pride in Earth'…So you're not buying it, eh?" He guffawed again.

_Boy, he just cracks himself up_. "Not really. What about you?"

He swatted the air with his hand dismissively and took a big bite of food and shook his head. "He's a _meshugenah_…So, how did you like Minbar? You know Arthur Yazzie took his family a couple of months ago. He said that everyone is on time there, just like in Germany, and that they pray between every bite of food. The Chassidim do that here, don't they?"

"Oh Larry, they do not!" Her mother rolled her eyes at his tall-telling.

Havah blinked at the sudden change in track, and laughed. "The Minbari don't either. The religious caste do have certain rituals, but they don't do them for every meal, it would take all day and then they wouldn't have time for anything else."

He grinned and nodded. "I suppose that's true. I'd like to go sometime, get some pictures. Boy, the crystal city…that's remarkable."

"It is beautiful." Havah felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for the prismed lawns. She told them about the city and about Katani, Sorail and Nohri, about the New Years ritual and their Thanksgiving, and about Birin and Trell, avoiding carefully any talk about the Anla Shok.

After the meal, she wandered upstairs. The pictures of their family were where she remembered them, all over every wall. Zeity Mayer and Bubbi Ruchel and her dad and uncles as youngsters, grinned out at her, lighting candles. There stared her mother's father as a young man with his hooked nose and patient gaze. _None of these people are really related to me, are they. I wish they were._ There were pictures of them in solemn proper photographic poses, and pictures of them laughing, singing, eating, dancing. There were pictures of Havah and Tovah and their cousins too. Havah could remember being a child and not being able to turn around at any given moment without her father's holocamera in her face. At times she would be impatient, because he took forever to go anywhere with that blasted camera when they were on vacations, and five year old Havah wanted to see everything NOW! Other times she had enjoyed showing off, climbing a tree or striking a pose for the pictures. When she turned eleven, she had rued every single one of those photos, revealing as they did the growing alienness of her face. The differences, like any other feature she didn't like, had seemed stupendous and exaggerated, like a caricature of a normal adolescent face. And to top it off, she'd been chubby, or so she'd thought at the time. Now, the pictures of her seemed completely average, and she secretly thanked her dad for being so persistent. Suddenly, she had the desire to see the old albums again. Her mother used to have them in the closet and flip through them with her or some relative every once in a while. The condo was new, but they were probably in the closet here too. Havah pulled down a box that was still packed and labeled 'Pictures'. There were more than pictures in the box. Underneath the albums was a bundle of old school assignments collected by mom from her two daughters, probably every single one they had ever completed and brought home. One of them had belonged to Havah from kindergarten. At least that is what the childish crayon scrawl said. But the drawing had been done by no kindergarten brain. The crayon lines were shaky, a sophisticated idea being channeled through a five year old hand, but the forms were unmistakable to Havah now, Minbari war-cruisers, and not Sharlin-class either. These were old, very old, de-commissioned a century after the end of the Shadow War…nine-hundred years ago. Havah's hand trembled. This alter-ego had been slipping out even then. How long could she remember back, to the beginning of these intrusions? She had remembered curdling nightmares, but they had been growing in intensity. Over how many years? Had her parents recognized these ships as the regurgitation of some alien genetic memory, or had they chalked it up to Havah's already hefty imagination? She sifted through more papers, and pulled up letters, some of them in a loopy hand she recognized, her real mother's, some of them in a hand she had never seen. She pulled open one with the strange handwriting. There was a picture of a man, maybe early thirties, stocky, with cropped curly dark hair, mischevious eyes, and a boyish grin. It was to her mother from her brother Mohammed, who had been stationed on Mars.

_Dear Fatima,_

I know you have been through a lot in the past several months! You are fortunate to be alive, Insha Allah! Please do not be so angry with me! When I said that what happened was not your fault, I only meant that you're not loose…you know, a floozy…I'm just going to shut up now and pull my very large and dirty boot out of my mouth. I can't think of any way of saying what I mean without you getting mad at me again. I was only joking when I called your friend a djinn. I am the one who went into Earth Force, but you are the one who always seems to run into the weirdest people. Maybe I'm a little jealous. But I am worried about this kiddo, my niece.—God, I feel old now, thanks! What happens if she starts to look like Dad as she gets older? Not to pee on your upcoming joyful event, but given that you don't know what he was, how are you going to explain that when she asks? Especially when the little boys act like the little monsters we become before we get out of high school (Excepting me of course. I was an angel to girls, ask all of my old girlfriends who refuse for some reason to talk to me now…). As for the family, or what's left of it now that the War is over, I wouldn't worry about that, or about the community. Maybe Allah hadn't dictated the appendix to the Koran where it mentions what the hell you're supposed to do when captured and snogged by aliens. Maybe there were aliens even then and we just saw them as demons. But if so, then why did he help you? There's gotta be some way of finding your friend? I'll do some digging. If we find him, I promise to behave. I will honor his heroism by only punching him once instead of the beat-down I should give him for poking my little sister…Kidding… Please do not push me away. The astounding power of your silent treatment is breaking my heart. You are my kid sister and I miss you. See, here's a picture of me, looking dashing, to remind you that you're supposed to be nice to veterans!

Love, Mohammed

Havah didn't read any more. She just sat absorbing. Her mother's family had been interesting people. They had been devout Muslim in many ways, and very relaxed in others. Her mother's big brother had died shortly after writing the post, his fighter destroyed by a leftover Dilgar mine. She had no other data about her mother's family, or why they had not claimed her. She replaced the letter, feeling sad, and returned downstairs.

"Havah dear, do you want some dessert now?"

"No, I'm alright. Thanks."

"Are you sure? Are you ok? You went upstairs and now you're looking sort of…I don't know, deflated."

"Yeah, I'm ok. Maybe I'll have some cobbler." As soon as she spooned into the cinnamon crust, she started feeling better. She looked at her dad poring absentmindedly through papers. I could have sprouted a full head-crest at any time in the past thirty years, and I doubt he would have even noticed. And if I'd called it to his attention, he'd say 'Oh…uh, you got a haircut?'"

Upon her return to the grind, she found that the cam-filament had captured something of interest. At eleven-thirty-five Friday night, Jensen had entered his office with two Psi-cops. This may have meant nothing, of course. It was an emergency management office, and Psi Corps was a legitimate government agency, with whom they were required to coordinate. But something in the vid had made her shudder, aside from the slick black uniforms and leather baldrics. One of the Psi-cops, a dark-haired woman had turned slightly and almost stared right at the filament. She couldn't have seen it, but could she have sensed it? It wasn't sentient. It was her eyes that caught Havah's attention. She had seen the eyes of other Psi Cops. They were canny with the stolen awareness of others. These eyes were blank.

A couple of weeks later, Havah sauntered past the scruffy night guard who was snickering at an old Looney Tune. It was the one with Wiley Coyote and Sam the Sheepdog, saying hello, punching in their timecards and beating the snot out of each other.

"Evening, Havah." The guard smiled up from the screen.

"Evening, Ralph."

He didn't even ask her what she was doing there so late. He had seen her there before until nearly midnight, working on revisions and drafts of documents for Jensen.

"Aren't you going to frisk me and violate my workbag?"

"Do you want me to?" He grinned lasciviously. "You shouldn't tease me like that, girlie. Nah, I know you've been working extra hard for Jensen on those deadlines, and I see you several times a day."

"Okay. I had dinner at Big Johnnie's, and I have almost an entire order of leftover wings. Want 'em?"

"Aw, you know I do, darlin'"

She reached into her pouch and handed him a plastic bag. He grinned.

"Night, Ralph."

"Night, Havah."

Sam on the screen unzipped his sheep suit and sling-shot Wiley off a cliff using the coyote's own neck. Havah shivered, around the corner, thinking of the 'Acme' mini-TIG welder and sander in her bag. She scoured her office again for any devices but her own, broke into the panel, wired the decoder, and welded the panel back. His office, like his personality, was immaculate. She would have to be meticulous, or he would notice the presence of even a single dust mote. In an urn she placed an antiquated solid-state recorder. No one bothered looking for those anymore. Most of them were in museums, and jamming devices focused on more recent technology, she hoped.

Jensen called her in at 700 hours. "There's been an incident. Not here, but on the Markab home-world. They're in the middle of an epidemic. We're sending assistance. Since our resource inventory has you down as having epidemiology experience, I'm sending you on one of the research and recovery teams. When can you be ready to leave?"

"In an hour and a half, sir."

"It'll have to do. Meet up with Dr. Satmahari and his team at docking bay 12 with your materials."

"Yes sir."

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Created on 05/05/2005 08:43:00


	16. Chapter 16

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 16—The Markab Plague

It was quickly clear, by the heavy contingent of security and federal agents, that Earth Gov suspected an intentionally released agent. And by the time the ships carrying the assistance teams from Earth Gov arrived, the Markab were dead. The case fatality was one-hundred percent. One-hundred percent of the population had been infected, and one-hundred percent of the infected population had died of the disease. The Markab home-world was a tomb populated by its non-sentient life and the microbes that had destroyed the population. Doctors and patients, young and elderly, males and females, all lay silent and immobile in the early stages of putrefaction. The sight of their rigor bombarded Havah as soon as she stepped off of the transport. Despite her time in public health, she had never encountered such a situation, a fatal pandemic. Even the doctors and other epidemiologists with them looked stunned. What made the sight doubly eerie was the complete lack of smell inside the suit. Around them was a sea of corpses and she was suspended in weird limbo above it, unable to sense anything other than the canned air. It was like watching a movie, through the face mask, something not quite real.

After a vociferous argument with several agents about what the outbreak investigation teams were or were not allowed to touch, and whose jurisdiction or crime scene this was, Dr. Satmahari stopped yelling and handed a slip of paper to the agent in charge. The agent gazed at it, silently handed the paper back, fixing the doctor with a withering stare, and outlined spots on a map. They would be allowed to collect samples from marked areas, observed by an agent. It was either that or order the whole outbreak investigation team back on the ship and home without samples, which was precisely what they would have done and had the right to do since it was now a restricted site. But someone back home wanted information badly enough and had enough power to override the typical protocol of both the military and the Bureau of Investigations.

Dr. Satmahari's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the lull. "Well, there is no one to interview, we'll have to get tissue, and look through records." The field lab and decon zone, and morgue were set up and Havah went out collecting tissue and body fluid samples. A few bodies were brought in to the morgue for autopsy, and the medical examiner began her incisions. They kept their EVA suits on, while Havah assisted Dr. S with analyzing the samples, and coordinated the data collection between the morgue, micro, the field investigators, and Earth Central. The med examiner reported that the bodies she autopsied had died two and a half days ago. The organs had undergone a tremendous amount of damage at a rapid pace. Irregularities in the brain and spinal cord tissue suggested a demyelinating disease. Further analysis of the neurons confirmed that the myelin sheaths had been completely stripped, beginning with the bursting of the Markab red cells, a specialized set of cells responsible for the integrity of the body's myelin. This would have made the disease very much like an extremely accelerated version of multiple sclerosis. A review of medical charts from the computer system revealed that the case definition of symptoms all included the loss of balance and kinetic sense, dizziness, loss of sensation in various parts of the body, and eventually, paralysis, asphyxia, cardiac arrest, and death. The epidemic curves done on Markab records from Babylon 5 and two other regions with Markab populations indicated that the mean time from the first symptoms to death had been about 46 hours. The pathogen was, according to Stephen Franklin of Babylon 5, a virus, attacking and destroying the Markab red cells. No other species but the Pach'mara had physiology similar to the Markab enough to possess susceptible cells. Dr. Satmahari confirmed their safety and they removed their hoods.

Dr. Satmahari peered at the microscope screen. "It appears to be a coronavirus. Those spikes are hemagluttinin…" He proceeded to begin analysis of the viral RNA. After another few hours, he emerged, his dark face drawn. Now it was Havah's turn to ask him if he was alright.

"I'm fine." He replied tersely.

"You don't look fine." Havah waited.

"I said I'm fine!" He stalked off to the lab again. Havah followed him. Something had clearly happened and she was stubborn enough to persist.

She entered the lab and he was facing the wall with his hands on his head. She sat and waited. After about twenty minutes, Dr. Satamahari went and sealed all the apertures so no one could hear or come in, and came back and sat down.

"About seven years ago I worked for the military in the Bio-Warfare division, in the Immunizations section. The Bio-warfare division is about prevention and protection of our populations against other bio-weapons. At least that's what I thought, until now. Well, I came across sequencing patterns for a genome that I had never seen before. I thought it was for a new vaccine. I wasn't supposed to see it, but let's just say that I had gotten clearance that I wasn't supposed to have. That sequence never came across our desks. I am certain that that sequence and the viral RNA are the same, or pieces of the same. I do not know why I am telling you this. Especially considering who your supervisor is." He looked at her. Fatalism was written in all of the lines of his face.

"I don't know my supervisor very well. Not well enough to tell him about one doctor's speculation."

He was visibly relieved.

She continued. "We need more information. The feds seem to think this was biological warfare. What do you think?"

He didn't answer.

"The Markab weren't at war or even in conflict with anyone, why would someone release an agent like this? In all-hazards training, we learned that the goal of biological terrorism isn't usually to kill huge bunches of people. It's really to disorient or disassemble the society by overwhelming the infrastructure. If enough sick people and enough worried well flood the health care system and lines of communications, the society's resources and/or military are decimated, leaving them vulnerable. I thought biological weapons weren't typically used for genocide? I know the government was thinking along those lines during the Earth-Minbari War, even though many officials won't admit it now. But the Minbari were a threat to us. Why would the Markab be seen as a threat, by anyone?"

"I don't know…" He breathed. "Is there a possibility that motives could include the use of test populations?"

Havah's stomach churned. "I guess."

She went back to the field to think and scour. If this were a weapon, it would require a dispersal method. This virus had been air-borne, and biological weapons had unfortunately surpassed the old days of useless crop dusters, aerosol misters and bungled wet slurries. If there were any evidence to be had, she would have to find it quickly, and do it around the security. What had led the feds to believe that this was an agent? They had been sent before anyone knew the disease would prove so fatal, so they couldn't have known how devastating this disease would be. And why were they so interested in an agent used against a non-Human population, especially since policy appeared to be swinging towards focusing on humanity only? _Dr. S thought he saw the viral sequence before,_ she thought with a shudder. And what of the other populations of Markab, in other locations? They were all dead too. Could it have spread so quickly, or was this some kind of concerted effort? Considering how virulent the virus appeared to be, it was possible that it could have spread to other ports of call across the galaxy. It would depend on the timing. Havah reviewed the data, medical records from hospitals, reports from the other ports. She began establishing temporal sequence. According to local physician's records, the pandemic on the homeworld had begun a day earlier than on Babylon 5, and two days earlier than on the other two outposts. It was three days from the homeworld to Babylon 5, but the incubation period could have begun with an absence of symptoms. She queried the computer to find the earliest case of all four sets of data. There it was. The index case had been on the Home-world. However, a number of others had followed within a few hours. It looked like they had all been exposed at similar times. She reviewed their medical charts all night and all the next day until her eyes were about to fall out of her head. They had all been outside for extended periods of time within the same couple of days, a week earlier. She reviewed the meteorological reports for those two days and plotted the first ring of cases on a geographic map. A chill sunk in as she overlaid the maps. The cases were scattered over a swath closely matching a jet stream of wind that had blown over the area during those two days. A week later, a syndrome unique in its rapid deterioration of patient reflexes, surfaced in local clinics. She checked the soil and water samples from across the planet. The microbe was everywhere. It had to have been an atmospheric release. And then was very likely spread from person-to-person across the galaxy. Frantically, Havah hacked into copies of the flight records for the Markab ports for a week prior to the appearance of symptoms, copying the crystals and slipping away just before someone came. There was one record, and it could have been innocuous, of a ship that appeared to be having difficulties with its thrusters and, at the surface of the atmosphere had to abandon its attempts to land. It had returned to open space. The ship had been unregistered. There was no other information, but as Havah read the entry, she was almost certain that it had been the source of the release. Those were a lot of conclusions to jump to, but the coordinates at which the ship had abandoned its landing attempts matched a point in the jet stream, and the first case had been the closest to the coordinates of the ship, directly in the path of wind, ten degrees of latitude north of the ship's lowest coordinates. This information had to get to Entilzah Sinclair. It may be nothing, simply a lot of correlations, but the information could be discarded later after review.

No one had slept much in the windy quiet nights since coming here. And now it was time to return home. Nothing more could be done. That night before boarding, after the sun had set and the first three stars had come out in the clear sky, undimmed by the light pollution of a vibrant civilization, Havah stood in a bare field, faced the east and sang the Mourner's Kaddesh for the departed. "Yit'kadal v'yit'kadash sh'mey raba…" Jewish or not, the Markab were a billion souls that deserved singing to wherever it was they were going.

They arrived in the wee hours of morning, but Jensen wanted a report now. As she was walking to his office, the hairs rose on the back of her neck. Eyes had been there. She whirled around, but the hallway was empty behind her. Only a light bulb flickered spastically, the same one as always. Jensen was in his office pinning her with an officious stare as she sat to report. She cleared her throat and in that moment knew, just as she had known only with the force of hunch that the person at the end of her Anla Shok trial had been an enemy, that something sinister surrounded them, and that Jensen knew.

"The Markab are extinct, sir."

"Yes, I am aware of that. Tell me about the virus."

"It's similar to a coronavirus, we think. It was a positive sense RNA virus with spikes of hemagluttinin and another antigen that we didn't recognize. It replicates in the cytoplasm and uses the Golgi complex to bud out of the cell walls. It destroys the myelin sheaths around the neurons, starting with the red cells. The incubation period appeared to be about seven and a half days and was completely asymptomatic until the first symptoms appeared and then the time from symptoms until death averaged about 46 hours. The symptoms all began with a loss of coordination and equilibrium and then progressed rapidly to fever, atonia, blurry vision, slurred speech, descending flaccid paralysis, and eventually asphyxia and death. The index case reported with symptoms at midday on Monday, two weeks ago. There were a number of other cases following that one, at eleven different clinics within four hours of the index case, but from a wide region, spanning the path of the jet stream in the northeast. We believe that it was spread by this wind initially. It is very likely to have been an atmospheric phenomenon, since it was found all over the globe."

"What was its effect on other species?"

"None, sir. It's not pathogenic to Humans or any other race but the Pach'mara."

"And its potential for mutation? Can it change to affect other species?"

"I suppose it's possible, but not likely."

"What do you think was its origin?"

"I don't know sir. I've never seen it before, neither had the microbiologists, although the Markab have records of such a plague in a milder form occurring one thousand years ago."

"Same pathology?"

"Yes sir."

"So it existed on the planet before."

"That's difficult to determine. It's possible."

"What were the treatments during that epidemic?"

"Various chemical compounds, I'll have to check with an ethnobotanist and biochemist. They are all foreign to me. Dr. Franklin from Babylon 5 was able to construct a vaccine. But it was too late."

"I see. Thank you. I want a full report of all historical documents with references to the previous epidemic, and the data you found, tomorrow by noon."

"Yes sir." She left, knees shaking. She stared at the sculpted ceiling all night.

In the morning, she called Dr. Satmahari before going to work. "Can I see you in your lab?"

"When?"

"Lunchtime."

"I'll be here."

She left for the office. Rounding a corner to the hallway abutting her office, she heard a familiar nasal voice, and saw a face that made her freeze and dive back behind the wall. Mr. Morden. He was here. And if he was here, so were they, somewhere near. She sunk against the wall, slowing her breathing and hoping neither he nor his watchers had seen her. They could be in front of her right now and she would never know. Morden receded down an opposite arm of the hallway, and she swept in after a minute as though nothing had happened. He had been to see Jensen. She checked the files and an appointment with him had been listed as a 'consultation'.

That noon Havah showed up at the lab and most of the staff was gone. Dr. S closed the doors of his office and waited curiously.

"I want you to test my blood for antibodies to Grey Wind Fever."

"Francisella canitensis? Why?…Oh the vaccine?"

She sat down and sighed as he drew her blood. She was taking as much of a chance as he felt he had been taking that day on Markab when he told her his thoughts. He would know that her blood wasn't Human, and right now that was no small confidence.

"I'll go over the blood and let you know."

"Thanks." She returned to work.

At the end of the day, when again, most of the workers were gone, Havah returned for the results.

Dr. S eyed her strangely. "You know that you don't have a human blood type? In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say it was Minbari."

"I know." She paused and peered back at him, eyes unwavering. "I never knew either of my parents. I fought for Earth in the war. I'd do it again if I had to."

"I wasn't questioning you…There were no antibodies for francisella canitensis. There were, however, some other antibodies that I hadn't seen before, to the virus we discovered last week. They were in my blood too."

"I thought that the disease couldn't affect Humans?"

"It can't. But it is a foreign substance in the body, and so the immune system can still form antibodies to it, even if they don't do anything. They're markers of exposure. And there was something else…The immune globulin was IgG. It should have been IgM. You understand?"

"IgM is immediate post-exposure. IgG isn't."

"Right. For us to have an IgG response means that we were exposed weeks ago, before going to the Markab planet."

"The Grey Wind vaccine?"

"That would be my guess."

"But Dr. Franklin had to develop a vaccine to this thing. And they could have given this to him, to us, to bring to the Markab!"

"Maybe. It may not have been a functional vaccine, and it wouldn't have gotten there in time. And vaccinating the Markab may not have been the goal of whoever infected them."

Havah just sat there in shock. Dr. S didn't seem to be any less incredulous. "I'm keeping a record of these results."

She nodded dumbly. "I'll let you know if I find anything else."

"Likewise."

The following day, after everyone left for the day, Havah retrieved the solid-state recorder, and retreated to her flat. She hit Play. Morden's voice was clear, and Jensen's, and a faint sussuration, like static, but Havah knew it was not the poly-vinyl. It was Them.

"The data you requested on the Markab. It's all there. What the hell was that? Genocide wasn't part of our contract!"

"It was a tragic mistake. You couldn't have known of the virulence, no one could. My associates were only trying to assist them. The plague was terrible in the past, and so we thought that introducing an attenuated strain would inoculate them against it in the future. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. You are familiar with that theory, it's fueled human immunization for centuries."

"Well then why was this kept from the Markab government?"

"It would have caused unnecessary panic….Look," Morden's voice was silky, "What happened was extremely distressing to me and my associates. Now we know, and Humans will be better protected. In addition, my associates have agreed to consider your proposal for an examination of some of their technology, under their supervision of course. They would prefer telepaths, as I mentioned. Their language is extremely difficult to learn and so it would facilitate faster education if they could communicate with telepaths. If you could organize this with Psi Corps, I'm sure that we could come to a satisfactory agreement."

"I'll meet with our liaison from the Corps. It may take time."

"Of course. Contact me whenever you have the arrangements."

Havah just sat in mortified silence, and finally sprawled across the duvet, immersed in nightmare.

_She was piloting a flyer, but it wasn't like any flyer she'd ever flown before. It was clumsy and made of scrap metal. It looked like one of those antique fighter planes she had seen in the Smithsonian, the kind people used in the old World Wars. As she flew, her view took in the plane as though she were outside of her body. The plane had a name, just like the Star Furies, and the cruisers. It read _Enola Gay._ The plane was passing over green montane islands, and she could see a large city. A feeling of foreboding came over her. It had to do with the cargo she was ordered to drop, a bomb, an old fashioned one. But this one was different. She knew as soon as she released the catch and confirmed that the load was airborne that nothing in her world or anyone else's would ever be the same again. She sped away, knowing somehow that she had to get away fast. The plane was so slow, and she had the feeling in the dream, of running through molasses, and running and running and never moving an inch, and there was no time to get away. She didn't see the impact, but the aftermath made the ground and water shudder with displaced atoms. In the dream she looked back and saw the mushroom cloud billowing miles above the city where her cargo had landed, enveloping the world in a blossoming engorged sun, scorching and scarring the very air. And then she was back on Markab, and instead of the silhouettes of vaporized Japanese, there were sick Markab everywhere, struggling for breath. They ceased all motion and a sea of glassy frozen eyes gazed back at her. _

Havah tossed about on the covers, spotted with sweat, and lapsed back into dream.

_She was piloting another ship, on the Battle of the Line, but this time, it wasn't the same battle. Minbari ships were defending Earth against another enemy far greater than they had been. They thought the war was over. They thought they had stopped the invasion, but she watched in helpless horror as alien gliders too far away from her into the atmosphere released their own cargo, a black powdery poison. A plague._

Havah jerked upright, sheets soaked with perspiration, trembling from head to toe. She stumbled into the shower, tossing the sheets in the recycling hamper, and turned on the water as cold as it would go, until her skin was numb. She sat in the tub, reviewing the recent events, the evidence and the epiphanies that she hadn't allowed herself while reporting or trying to trudge through the past few days, reviewing the air of antipathy toward aliens that had permeated everywhere she went, the paranoia. The water streamed down her skin, pummeling her in little pinpoint hammers, washing away suds. The Jews had a word for what she felt. _Tom'ay_. Unclean. She understood intimately now. It was when you did something terrible, and had to live with the memory and the feeling of it in your mouth and under your skin. The Shadows were here, the Devourers. _Our government is helping them, its fear of aliens delivering us into their hands, validating our reasons for being afraid. _Havah slid down into the tub, ignoring the pounding water in her face, wishing she could drown in little quarter-millimeter jets of spray. But she didn't. She toweled off and went back to bed, and lay ruminating until the watery blue dawn touched the windowsill. Jensen was a smart man. How could he have let that story about mass inoculation slide? That was completely implausible and he had to have known. But they had easily distracted him by dangling the promise of technology in front of him. _Is he afraid that whatever happened to the Markab will happen to us? Is that what the people making those decisions are being led to believe?_ There were no answers to any of these questions and her alarm was about to go off. She shut it off and fell asleep again.

The next day, she put in for immediate leave, claiming exhaustion from the events of the previous couple of weeks. Strangely, Jensen agreed. He looked as haggard as she felt, and she knew why, but gratefully let him sign the leave slip without a word.

As she was leaving for her shuttle, a man motioned to her in the shuttleport. _Now this is the scene the port security always warn you about with those ridiculous questions about whether you packed your own bags or let a complete stranger pack them! Could this be any more shady?_ She thought. But he didn't try to slip dust into her bag, so she supposed that was a start.

"Havah Lassee?"

She said nothing.

"You don't know me, but I know you. I saw you on Proxima Three and I saw you dust those Minbari units."

"So?"

"So, I've been watching you and there is something that you should know."

"Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Commander William Byron. I have information about Earth Force One on the day of the assassination."

"Assassination?"

"Assassination. There were records of a new engineer brought in on the shift change just before launch. I knew the guy who was replaced. He'd been working that shift and that assignment for five years, and there was no reason for his re-assignment. The new technician was brought in supposedly to repair a couple of problems before launch, with new technology. But Joe'd gone over the ship and nothing was wrong."

"Could something have happened in space?"

"Yes, except that the explosion was supposed to be caused by the fusion core. And I found a record of the cargo inventory with several extra units of liquid nitrogen. Normally that wouldn't matter, we use it for all kinds of things. But I thought you might recognize the idea."

Havah's stomach sunk. She did know that trick, she had used it on the Minbari. "Do you have the record?"

"No, I tripped a virus and it was destroyed."

"Wouldn't the duty officer have to approve a shift change like that?"

"Yes."

"Jesus."

"It gets worse." He handed her a crystal.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. We're in a shuttleport and you're handing me a package, do you really think I'm going to take that?"

"It's just a news report. It's hard to find now because it was taken off the air, and the President tried to explain it away. I know you have no reason to trust me—"

"You're damn right I don't! Why me?"

"Because you can be trusted."

"How do you know that?"

"I told you, I've been watching you. And I told you my name, didn't I?"

"You could just be making all that up!"

He smiled slightly, and raised his hands in surrender. "I don't have any other way of convincing you. It is up to you." He disappeared.

If he was telling the truth, then he had just forfeited his life, if she turned out to be the wrong person. If this was a trap…She just stood there, torn in a morass of indecision. _I'm going to wind up blindfolded in San Quentin Colony, with my face plastered across the evening news!_ The shuttle was boarding. She looked at where he had been, and then looked at the crystal, and sighed. _Rangers risk their lives._ '_Hello ma'am, have your bags left your sight at any time?' No. 'Has anyone asked you to take any object aboard for them?' YES! Wanna see?_ She shoved the crystal in her pocket, and flinched when a passenger put his hand on her shoulder to pass her in the aisle. Her heart pounded until the flight took off.

In her sleeping compartment, she plugged in the crystal to her hand-held viewer. It was a vid of Vice-President Clarke, in the hospital where he had been taken for a work-up after claiming illness. Despite his malady, he was in the children's ward, looking quite healthy. He was reading Hope for the Flowers to the children, filmed by news crews, when a secret serviceman entered and whispered the news of the explosion to him. He nodded to the man curtly and continued reading. For twenty minutes. Havah realized as she watched, that these were not the reactions of a surprised man, not the reactions of a man suddenly bereft of his esteemed political mate. He had known. It was not proof exactly, but it was clear enough. He had, of course, explained his reaction belatedly as flu-fatigue, but Havah knew now without a doubt that the assassination, the coup-de-tat had been real.

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Created on 05/05/2005 08:43:00


	17. Chapter 17

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 17—Family Ties

The results of the genetic tests confirmed what Neroon already knew. Havah was his daughter. He took the results and retreated to his quarters and sat trying to meditate. The attempt was unsuccessful, and he brooded instead. He was an intense man, and while extremely self-disciplined, could still feel nothing for a few hours but incoherent rage and indignation at what had been done to him. _How dare they! _He had been violated, used, turned into an abomination, and his was not the only life they had destroyed! They had killed an innocent woman. Even his emotions were played with and used by them! And they had created…that…thing! He didn't even know what to feel about her. He despised Havah, for being what she was, a product of what had been robbed of him and who had robbed him. On top of being a crime against him, she was the death of the woman he loved…And she was his child, his flesh, a part of him, a part of the woman he would never see again. After years of total control, the world suddenly made no sense. He stepped into the practice area and cycled through denn bok exercises with as much power and speed as he could, which was considerable. Every block, every thrust, every strike gave him back a little more control over his life and his body. No matter what else happened out there, the forms of denn bok combat were always there, always his, and using them he could control his opponent. There was always practice, constant learning, constant newness and discovery of greater skill. The exercise changed the chemistry of his brain, clarifying the world, stabilizing it.

He returned to his quarters and reflected successfully this time. _She is my child. Whether I wanted it or not, whether I like her or not, I cannot deny her existence. Clan is through the mother, unless the mother is not present, and Fatima is dead. The Star Riders would not have to claim her if there were someone else of her mother's clan to do so. But there is not. In any case, if she is shamed, this can still fall upon the father's side. She knows too little of our ways. She must be instructed in order to comport herself appropriately, if she is to avoid shaming this clan._

Neroon went before the assembled Council of Caste Elders. This was a matter for them, being of a personal, caste and clan nature, not a matter of state. An elderly warrior spoke. "We have been informed of the events that transpired during your capture on the enemy vessel, and the results of the test revealing your genetic relation to Anlashok Lassee. And we feel, due to the nature of this incident, that this event should be kept among this council for now."

An elderly religious caste member continued. "It was agreed among all of the caste elders that no shame will be brought upon you or your clan or your caste, since the event was not voluntary, and in fact occurred in the line of your duty to Minbari security. In addition, compensation for your injury will be given to your clan."

Neroon bowed and saluted, and surprised everyone in chambers with his reverent contradiction. "I thank you for your kindness, and for your wisdom, Elders. However a thought is still upon me concerning Havah Lassee."

They looked at one another and waited.

He continued. "Whether it is secret or not, it cannot be denied that Anlashok Lassee is my child. That means that she is part Minbari, and of the Star Riders clan on my side. Her mother is dead, and no one in her mother's clan appears to know or claim her. According to our ways, our clan can still be responsible, or at least affected if she were to be shamed or bring dishonor upon herself. Yet she was not raised as a Minbari and certainly not as a Star Rider, so she will be too ignorant in the proper mode of behavior to avoid such things. She should be given instruction in our history and our ways, to protect the Star Riders from scandal. I ask this as a leader of my clan."

"But she was taught much of our ways in joining the Anla Shok."

He scowled. "Yes. I understand. But with all due respect, her instruction should be more thorough than I believe the Human Sinclair can provide." He heard muttering. "I do not question the skills or wisdom of the Minbari Anla Shok instructors, however, there are things that only the Star Riders can teach her. And since we may be, in part, responsible for her…and I am…her father, honor demands that I see to this task myself."

They discussed amongst themselves and then reconvened. "It is a good argument. We will leave this instruction to your discretion."

He bowed. "Thank you."

Felshenn was looking at him in amazement as they left, trying to respectfully avert his eyes if Neroon should return his gaze. But Neroon did not bother and kept his eyes ahead of him. He said instead. "You have a question."

"Not a question, Na, I was only thinking that it was an honorable thing for you to take such a task upon yourself."

He did not know what to respond to that. His emotions were still disturbingly pulling him in two different directions, so he continued to walk in silence.

Neroon stalked into Sinclair's office, prepared for whatever argument he might get. The ambassador looked up, masking quickly a brief look of dismay with a broad smile. "Satai, is there—"

"I must speak with Anlashok Lassee at once."

"She's not on Minbar. She's been on a mission for several weeks. It'll be some time before she's back yet."

He suppressed a surge of irritation. "Then she must be recalled."

Now it was Sinclair's turn to be annoyed. This man was a soldier, he ought to know better! "I'm sorry, Satai, but that's not possible. She—"

"What do you mean it is not possible! This is a matter of extreme importance!"

"And so is the mission she's on! Recalling her right now could not only jeopardize the mission, but her life! How much good will she be to you dead?"

Neroon huffed and turned away, but he knew Sinclair was right, as painful as that was. It was a few moments before he spoke again. "And what mission is this?"

"I can't divulge that kind of information at this time, Satai. You know that!"

"As a member of the Grey Council—" 

"As a member of the Grey Council, you know that the Anla Shok operate with a certain degree of independence, which is necessary due to the nature of their tasks! Satai, I am not trying to undermine your authority, but I am required by my post to protect the confidentiality of my people, even from the Grey Council. It is for Miss Lassee's own safety."

This was not going at all the way Neroon planned. In a matter of a few days, how had he lost so much control? He peered at the infuriating man, and contemplating backhanding him into the wall and giving him an etiquette lesson. But despite the impudence towards a member of the Council, he could at least be certain that his daughter's safety was being watched, and that this Human would not betray her. As ambivalent as he felt about her, it was some small comfort.

The Human spoke. "If you want to give her a message, I can get it to her as soon as the opportunity presents itself."

Neroon sneered, but pondered the idea. He chose his words carefully. "You will inform her that her father will provide necessary education as soon as she returns."

"I'll do that, Satai. And _if possible_, I'll wait to have her return to Earth until you've completed her training."

Neroon's eyes widened. Sinclair knew!

At the warrior's startled gaze, Sinclair continued. "Havah told me some time ago. And she told me how it happened. I told her I wouldn't tell anyone and I haven't. It's up to her to tell whom she wishes. But you already know. She wasn't sure how you would take it. She didn't tell anyone else either. I think that she wasn't sure how other Humans would react to her, and she wasn't sure how other Minbari would react to you if they knew. She wanted to protect you until she was more familiar with your ways. You have my word of silence."

He was shocked into a brief silence himself. How many people had she told and 'sworn to silence'? He was uniquely uncomfortable with the thought of this Human knowing. However, the man had demonstrated his discretion. He nodded his satisfaction and turned to leave, with a warning. "The ship that committed these crimes was destroyed. After the attack and their initial escape they were foolish enough to try again with others of my people. They failed and paid with their lives. I led that mission myself. They avoid the Minbari now."

"Yes. I certainly would too." Sinclair said. "Hopefully, they will avoid Humans, as well. Did you learn much about them?"

"Aside from information on how to kill them, there is very little to learn, They are a blight on the galaxy." He fixed Sinclair with a baleful stare and left.

Sinclair shook his head. Her father's reaction to her could have been worse, but he still didn't see her responding to Neroon's demands very well at all. In fact, he could almost envision the family shouting-match that was inevitably going to ensue upon her return. The two of them were more alike than either one of them would ever admit, both as stubborn as rams in rutting season. Neroon had always grated on him. Being around the man was exhausting. Without uttering a single word, he constantly bombarded everyone around him with waves of antipathy and tension. At least he didn't seem to want to kill Havah anymore. But there was no doubt that the road towards any kind of positive relationship would be as long as the road spanning the Land of Oz. He sighed and began organizing a message.

The wind-sighing spires of Yedor somehow revived the regret that gnawed at Havah's bones when she thought about Earth Alliance 'the way it used to be'. It was clear now that the system was broken, and it was going to be some time before it was fixed. _Can anybody get Clark impeached at least? For what?_ She thought. _For not acting surprised enough? There's no proof there. Clearly there's collusion with some high level persons in the military, but there's no tangible link to Clark, only circumstantial evidence. Oh well, three more years to go before election time. Maybe he won't get re-elected. How much damage can he do in the next three years? _Havah's hackles answered that question as she reminded herself that a race had met extinction under his administration, and that something that no one could see was whispering poison into his ears.

The air drew Halloween breaths through her hair even here on Minbar, a hundred thousand light years from the tombs of Earth, as she strode through the trees and rock to the Anla Shok compound. Sinclair looked up with gleeful surprise as she came in and closed the door, and pulled her into a hug before she could salute him.

"I'm glad to see you're alright. The reports that I'm getting from Earth, Mars and the other colonies seem to indicate that the noose is tightening back home."

"I'm alright." She handed him the data crystal with the information from Markab, and the reports she had compiled for Sinclair, and the data crystal given to her from the Lieutenant Commander. There didn't seem to be much to say until he had seen them. At her somber expression, he slid the crystal into the port and read everything, and watched the Clark transmission. And then he just sat there, hawk-like face twisted between revulsion and sadness.

He pulled the last crystal from the port as if it were the weight of a planet and placed it on the desk. "So. There it is. The emperor's new clothes."

Havah just waited. She didn't feel much like talking, as happy as she was to see him.

"Excellent job…I'd like to know more about this technology proposal for the Shadows and how Psi Corps will be involved…Damn…" His head drooped. "I just reminded myself…your father stopped by. He knows, Havah. I don't know how he found out, but he knows, and has requested that you be trained in your clan history."

Havah was stunned and just let her jaw hang. He wanted to train her rather than shoot her, tie rocks to her feet, and secretly dump her in the river? _Well, that's a relief._ "Uh…when?"

"As soon as possible. How long is your leave from Jensen?"

"Not that long, a couple weeks. Enough to come here, give you the information and get back, basically."

"That's what I suspected. Well, I need your help in organizing implementation for the new training camps. Zagros Seven has been on line a few weeks now. I'll let Satai Neroon know, and you can set up a time for lessons with him when you see him. When do you think you can get back?"

"Well, maybe in December. There is a conference on Babylon 5, interplanetary infection control practitioners. I might be able to wiggle in and get Jensen to send me, in the interest of integrating bioterrorism/emergency management and infection control. There's no guarantee though, provided I'm even there still."

Sinclair nodded. "Good. I guess you can cross that bridge when you come to it. Let me know."

"Yes sir. Sorry the information I bring isn't more cheerful."

"It was expected. Here." He pushed a crystal her way.

She put the crystal in the port. There were accounts of strange sightings and attacks. There had been an attack on a Narn outpost in Quadrant 37. All ships had been completely obliterated, but it was suspected by Ambassador G'Kar that their old enemy had returned. There were no records however, only a picture in the Book of G'Quon. No ship had managed to capture any images and survive. "Whew. What did Delenn say? How'd G'Kar react?"

Sinclair sighed. "She didn't say anything. The Grey Council and Kosh both feel that it would be too much of a risk to tell him. If this really was an attack by the Shadows then it may be too dangerous to risk confronting them in the open yet. Remember, they destroyed every single person, and destroyed every bit of evidence that could lead to them. They don't want to be seen."

"So they might knock off anyone that they think knows about them."

"Right."

"Ooooooh. That's rough. G'Kar's not going to be happy if he ever finds out. You know he will eventually."

Sinclair tilted his head ruefully in assent. "Well, let's hope that telling G'kar is the worst of our problems. But if these beings are the ones fought by the Narns and the Minbari a thousand years ago, then it's looking more and more like war will be inevitable."

"Fabulous." Havah gazed at him.

He looked older, there was more silver now, which just made him look more distinguished. "You should go get something to eat and rest now. Don't leave your father hanging for too long, or he'll come to me. And I don't want to have that conversation with him again." He smiled.

"Sir, I'm sorry. Was he really terrible?"

"No, he was fine. Satai Neroon is used to authority, and he's just being a father."

Havah snorted. "I'm still reeling at that idea."

"I think he is too. Be patient with him, Havah. He's a lot older, and he's lived in a different world his whole life."

"Everyone keeps telling me that, be patient. I know. But it takes two."

"I know, I know. Well, everyone is telling you rather than him because you are more flexible."

Havah sighed. "Yes sir. It would be cool to get to know him better, but I don't want to get my hopes up."

Neroon stood near the alabaster stairs leading from one of the main government complex buildings, dappled sunlight bleaching his head-bone, highlighting his brow ridge. _Djinn_, Havah thought as she saw him. _Skin-Stealer_, Neroon thought as he saw her. Neither of them moved for an eternity. Havah swallowed, hard. "Father."

He inclined his head stiffly. "Daughter." Then he nodded to his gangly attaché who found something else to do for a while. In unison they headed for a secluded grove off the main marbled path. "I notified Sinclair that you were to be sent to me for training as soon as you returned. I assume that you are here for this reason."

"Well, sort of. I mean, I can't do it right now, I only had enough leave time to come here, give Entilzah—"

"I have no interest in your affairs on Earth. I was told that you would remain here for training."

"No. He said that I should come when I got the chance, but that I should let you know so we can arrange a time. You may have no interest in the affairs on Earth but they are part of my duty—"

"And what of duty to your clan!—"

"That I never knew about until half a year ago?"

"This is precisely what I was concerned about. You have no concept of loyalty to clan or caste, and this is not acceptable for someone who was born into the Star Riders—"

"Is that what you're concerned about? Yeah? A year ago you wanted to kill me, now you want to train me and I was stupid enough to think that you actually took an interest, but that's not it, is it? Just like you said, you're biggest concern is that I don't toss a monkey wrench in your political career by coming too far out of the Minbari closet! You're so convinced that I'm going to shame you simply by being too Human, so you think that by 'training me' in the ways of the clan, you can somehow over-ride some of my Human programming. Well, you know what? It doesn't work that way! If you don't like me the way I am then you don't have to be a part of my life. It doesn't seem like an idea you really relish anyway." _Great idea, patience._

"The Minbari do not 'work that way', child! Since you are half Minbari, you have a clan. And your clan is responsible for your actions, whether you like it or not, which means that you cannot go galivanting anywhere in the galaxy you wish, doing anything you wish! You must conform to Minbari customs regarding our clan!"

A laugh escaped Havah before she could stop it, and she knew as it was escaping that it had been a slip of epic proportions. But after an adolescence of green-haired, tattooed rebelliousness, the demand for conformity rolled her funny-bone.

Neroon's face grew almost apoplectic as his voice rose. "This amuses you? This only demonstrates how little regard you have for your family and how sorely in need of discipline you really are! I had hoped—"

"What? You had hoped that I would be a perfect Minbari after finding out I was related to you?"

"Impudence!" He moved to strike her, but she dodged and kept talking.

"First of all, I'm not a child anymore. You missed that! I was raised to be a decent Human being by a perfectly good family, and while I was originally flattered that you seemed to want to include me in yours, you do so by insulting them, implying that their upbringing was useless! Second," And she slowed down and sadness crept into her voice. "Maybe we should accept now that I am never going to be the daughter that you wanted. I am sorry for what happened to you and to my mother, but I can't change the fact that I'm here, or that my mother was Human. If you want to try to train that out of me, we will both be wasting time because I can't just shuck it off like a coat. I want to learn whatever you have to teach because I am interested, and because I do believe that it is important to know where I come from. But I don't want to learn based on the premise that I am deficient for being Human, because then nothing I do will ever please you."

Amazingly, he stopped in his tracks and was listening.

"Look. I _may_ be able to make it back to Minbar during December. If so, I'll come see you then. If not, it may have to wait until after this mission."

_She looks a great deal like her mother when she is being defiant._ Neroon thought morosely for a moment.

Havah continued, sensing that she was gaining some ground. "Look. I'm not trying to defy you or be disrespectful or anything, I swear. And I know how important this is to you, and I know I have a lot to learn about the Star Riders, and I do welcome the opportunity to learn. It's just that this assignment demands my immediate attention or a lot of opportunity to gain vital information for Earth and Minbar will be lost. You wouldn't want me to abandon my duty to Minbar, would you?"

_Very nice touch. It appears that she is as clever as her mother was. _He thought, trying to avoid a smirk of amusement that threatened to ruin his demeanor. He re-composed his thoughts and glowered at her. "Of course not."

"I promise that I'll come back and learn about the clan, as soon as I can. And I won't do anything to shame the Star Riders in the meantime. It wouldn't even be possible really, I'll be on Earth. No one there knows about the Star Riders."

Neroon paused. Strategically, she made sense. "I suppose that will be acceptable. You will contact me as soon as you are able to return."

"Absolutely." Sweat beaded at her brow. This exchange had taken more energy than running a marathon. Marathon arguing, she supposed.

"Very well." He swept past her, walked out of the grove and disappeared in the oceanic twilight. She peered out after him onto the glimmering path, but he was gone, not even his silhouette darkening the shrubbery. _How does he do that? I wonder if he can teach me that when I learn about the Star Riders?_ A rustle behind her jangled her already frayed nerves and she spun to find his assistant, Felshenn, facing her. Apparently, he possessed that talent as well. He looked as cordial as he had the last time they met.

His lip curled in a sneer. "Causing strife already, little Changeling?"

"Bugger off." 

"And as genteel as always."

"Then don't talk to me! Who's asking you?"

"I am looking after the interests of my master, and making sure that you can harm no one but yourself should you err. I told you I would be watching you."

"You can 'watch' me until your eyeballs dry out and shrivel up for all I care." She resisted the urge to turn around and moon him. _Watch this!_ "And in case you hadn't noticed, 'your master' is an Alyt, and a member of the Grey Council. He can manage his own affairs just fine, without you surgically attaching your lips to his bum!"

The affront flared in his eyes like smoldering coals, and he moved towards her. She countered him and stood toe to toe, looking up into his eyes, midnight ice to his molten sienna. "You wanna hit me? Do it! Get it over with!"

The fire flickered and then subdued into a colder meaner light. "Your discipline is your father's responsibility for now, although with every breath you prove his fears correct. I would only remind you of your station. I witnessed your conception. You are nothing more than the result of an alien infection, a biogenetic disease. Any time you have doubt of your position, limitations, or worth, remember that."

Havah almost choked. She had expected hostility, and unbridled sarcasm, but somehow the raw disgust that had spilled from him like sewage had caught her by surprise.

He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. There had been no hiding the pain in her face that went deeper than he expected. Why that mattered to him, he couldn't imagine, but it did. She said nothing further, only brushed past him and left him standing in the grove, suddenly emptier than he had thought it could be.

Havah sat in a faceted cave near Tuzanor and held her hand out of the cavern-mouth into the rain. It ran in rivulets through her hand, and she watched the play of light through the droplets. Trel and Birin were off-world on a mission, and she could not tell Katani and Sorail what she had learned of Earth. And since these matters fully occupied her thoughts, she sought no one except the echoes of water against the walls. For now, silence and isolation were the coin of her realm, her penance for choosing the Anla Shok. An entire species of sentients were extinct. Earth was no longer Earth. A dull acceptance had settled in. That was the worst. This terrible calamity had happened and she simply assimilated it into the galaxy as it was now. And this bone-headed prick! He was looking for a fight and she had far too little energy left to give him one, and far too much pride to give him the satisfaction of predictability. The singing trickle lulled her to sleep with her back against a cool rock.

_The war was over, and they were still here. Some of them. Trelann was dead. He died for Minbar, she kept telling herself. But all she could think about was his dear face, the color of his eyes, every movement of every muscle in his face when he concentrated on something he was thinking about, when he smiled. She could see every contour of his head-bone in stark relief, as though he were here or would appear at any moment. And the nights were the worst, the cold neat space beside her, the absence of snoring, the silence. She had been used to long absences, he had been the commander on another ship. So she was no stranger to spending nights alone, but there was always the knowledge that the silence was temporary, desirable even, as there were some nights when his drilling nostrils kept her awake. But this…whatever was Beyond the Veil, things would never again be between them as they were, if there was a Beyond. Perhaps only the Religious Caste had the luxury of blind faith. She had begun to wonder. _I do not know if I want to spend the rest of this incarnation without him._ There was Kuraal though. The only part of him she had left. The baby needed her, and was waiting for her back on Homeworld. Her cousin had looked after the little girl, while she and Trelann had been deployed. But she was eager to hold her baby again. And she was needed by others as well, by her crew, although she would probably be replaced as a captain, now that she had the duties of the Provisional Council to see to. Valen needed her now, and her world through him. More was expected of her, and she could not let grief take her, especially now. There was a matter of grave importance to be dealt with before they even reached home-world. So much had to be cemented: what to do with the Anla Shok, the process of rebuilding the destroyed colonies, the organization of codifed statutes concerning the new government and the egalitarian placement of the castes and clans within it. It was the beginning of a paradigm shift, one that could be very positive for Minbar if they structured it correctly. _Despite all of our losses, it could be an exciting time to be alive, and a great task to partake in,_ she thought as the nine members of the provisional government prepared to meet one of the vessels of their mysterious Vorlon allies. These inscrutable aliens had appeared early on in the War, offering aid and guidance and asking nothing in return. Many in the military had been suspicious of their aid, but as time wore on and the war claimed unprecedented lives…_

_The walls of the ship closed in around them, singing, molding to their bodies like cocoons, but allowing them to see the trajectory of its path. As they flew, her mind wandered to the start of the project._

_She had approached Valen in his quarters, not exactly respectful, but what she had to say was important, and she had never been particularly good at decorum. He had stood, in his bed robes, waiting for her to speak, curious more than annoyed. "Shai Alyt Valen, I do not mean to question your capabilities in mentioning this, but I believe that caution and planning are always prudent. If the war goes any more badly for us, I believe that it would be wise for the Minbari to have a place to retreat to, away from Home-world."_

"_A fall-back shelter? Yes, I understand." He nodded his head. But there was something about his eyes, a prescient look he often got, as though he were watching events that had already happened, playing a pre-scripted role. "What do you have in mind?"_

"_Well, perhaps a planet or moon no one else would look at. We could terra-form it to suit our needs."_

"_The Shadows will look there someday. It would need to be hidden, even if it seems to you that it would be of no interest to them."_

"_What about our cloaking technology, although we do not have anything big enough for a planet. I could talk to the engineers."_

"_That would take a great deal of energy."_

"_What about a moon?"_

"_That may work. If we decide to do this, we may be able to garner help from the Vorlons. It will need to be done quickly."_

"_So you'll help?"_

"_Yes, as long as it does not take you or anyone else away from their duties for too long. We cannot afford absences now."_

"_Yes, Na."_

"_I will speak with our allies to see if they can assist us, and let you know."_

_Weeks later, he had garnered assistance not just from the Vorlons, but from eight other Minbari officials: an architect/civil engineer, aerospace engineer and an agriculturalist from the Worker Caste, a biologist, a social philosopher, and a physician from the Religious Caste, a surveillance specialist, and a logistics specialist from the Warrior Caste. And then they had begun the planning meetings for the project. It had been rough at first. The one Vorlon representative had rarely spoken, if ever, while the nine of them argued and hammered out the specifications. Valen, always present as well, had mediated the disputes that had lasted hours. But, finally, after a few more weeks, they had reached consensus on the shelter project plans. There was a moon in the Kohnari sector in a solar system with a yellow sun that would suit their needs. It had supported life, but the Shadows had hit it, and gone. There had been a small population of aliens, a marginal space-flight society that had seemingly defied them, and had no appropriate technology with which to defend themselves. The world was now deserted but for a few simple life forms. The biologist had cataloged the flora and fauna necessary to colonize a subterranean part of the moon to their needs. The civil architect, aerospace engineer and social scientist had scanned the planet, found a suitable place and plotted the structure of the haven. And the military planner had helped to determine what would be necessary in terms of security. The aerospace engineer had designed a graviton wave generator large enough to hide the distortion in space-time made by the moon, and a thermonuclear reactor powerful enough to fuel it. But it would require more. The engineer hypothesized that ancient space-faring races like these Shadows had developed a method for detecting the miniscule exchanges of quantum particles between space and hyperspace that riddled space-time, coupling matter or energy in both states of existence. It was the only way possible to phase into real space without the use of a jump-gate as accurately as these bogeys appeared to do. If so, the quantum signature of the moon could still be detected in hyperspace, and would have to be hidden, and that was beyond her knowledge or even the knowledge of anyone in her guild. Almost simultaneously, the nine had all looked at the Vorlon. He/she/it had given almost no input in these meetings so far, and it was now time to act as an ally or agree to forgo the meetings, although from a security stand-point, if the Vorlon decided to back out, it was far too late now, since the representative had seen and heard all of their plans. Fortunately, '__**We will hide you from darkness**__' was all the cryptic encounter-suited being had said, offering no clue as to how the Vorlons would accomplish this. No one in the room had any doubt, at this point in the war, that they could. The beings had a taboo against outsiders seeing their form, so no Minbari ever had. _

_And, at the culmination of what would be the last battle, just in time for salvage and recovery if they had lost the war, the project was complete, and their allies had provided a transport to take them there, more quickly and discreetly than any of their battered ships could do currently, without using more resources than they could spare to limp home. She continued to muse as the ship crooned. _

_The project team and Valen had convened on the long trip home, and it was then that he had asked them to serve Minbar in a provisional capacity as governors. Turanni had stared at her mentor as if he had lost his senses, just as she had when he had asked her months ago to be his executive officer instead of the series of officers more favored by…well, everyone else. "Master?"_

"_I've spoken with the Council of Caste Elders, and they have approved not only the idea of the provisional centralized government, but the request for the nine of you in these positions, should you choose to accept the nomination."_

_The civil engineer, a particularly outspoken young man remarked, "And…how many flasks of hal'chi did that take, Shai Alyt?" _

_Valen burst into a deep laugh. "Not as many as you might think. They are weary of this war. The rebuilding will be a long slow process, and they will be responsible for much of it otherwise. I explained in detail how the nine of you came up with and executed this plan for the shelter, and they were quite impressed with your initiative and care. It is exactly the kind of thing that I believe they would like to have done, if they had not been so bogged down in clan and caste matters. So, they agreed to the terms of a provisional governorship under the following conditions: The provisional government will be responsible for civil matters concerning planetary and federal matters only. The Caste Elders will maintain control over all matters of Caste and Clan. We will work out the details of these divisions of law when we reach Homeworld. So if you accept, we should begin discussion as soon as possible." _

_Turanni spoke again, still dumbstruck. "But…why…?"_

_Even though she hadn't finished the sentence, Valen had gotten used to her self-disparagement and knew she meant to question his choosing of her. She would get used to acceptance, given time and authority. "Why you? Because you have already worked together, successfully. Because you were not afraid to try something new, and because you have never in the past been afraid to speak up when your opinions were not favored. Yet despite your perceived 'rebelliousness', I have reviewed all of your work records, and yes, some of your personal records as well, and you have shown a great capacity for reason, consideration, and inter-caste collaboration. That is what we need right now."_

_He looked at Turanni and a flash of sad recognition came across his face as though he had only just recognized her. "After you came to me with this idea, Havah, my selection of candidates to approach about assisting on this team was not random. I chose people who I believed would most efficiently get the job done, and so it is with this fledgling governorship. You know that you can work together, and what you have built must remain confidential anyway, a last resort, as was indicated by our allies. Who better to manage that contingency plan than those who built it."_

_They all looked at one another. _

"_What is 'havah', master?" Turanni asked tentatively, she had never heard the term before._

_He looked startled, and then sighed, shaking his head. "I apologize, Turanni. I called you by the name of an old friend I used to know. You remind me of her at times." And then to all of them, "Give it some thought, and have your answer by our next meeting in two days, at the Kohnari jump point." _

They had all accepted the appointment, and so here they were, ready to view the fruit of their surreptitious labor of months. They docked in a deep cavern. The ship melted away and lay dormant behind them and in front of them was the Vorlon representative, Kosh Naranek. He turned without a word and glided towards the portal to the labyrinth. Turanni would never know exactly what happened next, whether Kosh's telepathy slipped for just a moment, or whether he chose for some reason as mysterious as all encounters with the Vorlons had been, to let her see his true form in her mind. But her mind's eye saw, for a moment that could have been an instant or an eternity, a great torus of energy rise and unfurl into a snaking swath of light above her, a Dragon King like a Watcher of Dol' An, left behind after her absence to guide those left on Minbar. This was the race that had been their allies during the Great War. They were still guarding the Minbari. But there was something else in that powerful mind that she could feel regarding her now. An implacability, a sense of many minds all considering her through Kosh. The feeling became terrifying, and she receded. As she did so, a faint feeling of melancholy crept in that came not from her, not from the many-minds-in Kosh, but from one of them, perhaps Kosh himself. Turanni hung on and followed the thread and it opened into the deepest loneliness and isolation she had ever experienced. The Vorlon collective mind warded off the void, but beyond that lay malaise, emptiness, and frustration. Hundreds of thousands of billions of souls in the galaxy, and they could communicate with no one truly. The rest were too young to understand. Except for the Others, and the Others were not listening any more. So many had gone on beyond the Rim, but they had stayed, they had stayed…

Turanni was jerked back into herself again, and the Vorlon glided on as if nothing had happened. They passed through great open areas of lush verdure, moist from trickling streams, and came to the innermost chamber. Kosh stood aside as Tihal, the biologist, touched the door-seal, marked by nine stars.

Havah jerked awake at the thunderclap and pouring deluge just beyond the cave-mouth, as spray blanketed her face. _Damn! Damn, damn, damn! What is behind that door?_ She sat up. And then the content of the entire dream began working into her consciousness. Valen had been prominent in this dream, and he looked oddly like Jeffrey Sinclair, and he had called her Havah at one point. Typical dream-logic. But it wasn't, was it? Kosh had been there too, she could still feel a paralytic loneliness, and it hadn't seemed anything like a dream, more like a memory. Whoever she had been, Turanni was inside her.

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Created on 05/05/2005 08:44:00


	18. Chapter 18

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 18—Epiphanies on the Night Watch

Things were getting worse. The skirmishes between the Centauri and the Narn were turning into a slaughter, and Earth Gov was waffling about putting any pressure on the Centauri to abandon their conquest. And now Jensen expected her to go to this meeting, a Nightwatch meeting. "It's a sub-division under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Peace. Since we'll be collaborating with them quite a bit, you need to be there. And since there has been a call for volunteers, it would be a good idea for you to join. This will make our collaboration and communication run seamlessly."

_So much for 'volunteer'_, Havah thought, as she grabbed her pad and materials and headed out.

The meeting was crowded, and she wrapped her sweater tightly around her shoulders and took a seat. The speaker began amidst the chatter. "If you'll all please sit so we can begin. I know you're all curious about the Nightwatch, and so this meeting has been organized to clear up any questions, and extend the opportunity to get involved. My name is John Ashby, I'm the Acting Director. This organization as you know, is a sub-division of the Ministry of Peace. The Ministry of Peace, as you know, was created to promote legislation and activism for peaceful solutions to internal conflicts. These conflicts have been barriers to efficiency and integration of services within Earth Gov and even within society in general. That being said, the Nightwatch is an operationalization of the mission of the Ministry. What that means is that the Nightwatch as a division, has been granted authority to mediate certain situations in which these barriers occur. For example, take a group of protesters, such as those we've seen in the capital lately. Many are simply expressing anger at a need that they have, which hasn't been met. Some suffer from mental illness, homelessness, many risk being assaulted as a result. Our organization has the resources to assist these individuals by investigating their situations so that their dissatisfaction can be resolved. It doesn't even have to be someone in such a dramatic circumstance, it can even be someone you work with, someone whom you know is unhappy with the current establishment. We can help. Communication is key. There is no way for us to help if we don't know what is wrong. But the manner of communication is important. People who contribute to slanderous web-sites, and questionable sources of media communicate their dissatisfaction in a destructive way, and we no longer have the luxury of catering to this kind of attitude, especially when there are better ways. So, the Nightwatch is setting up a system of surveillance in order to detect destructive communication at the source and locate people who need assistance with the hope of resolving some of these problems before they start."

Someone in back raised his hand. "What kind of surveillance?"

"Well, whatever is necessary, work history, which we already have access to, military records, if applicable, police records, if applicable, credit reports, which we already have access to, so that we can identify financial distress if that is a factor, political affiliation, medical or mental health records if that appears to be an issue."

Havah's stomach convulsed and the ache swiftly crept up to her chest. _Jesus, they're going to find out! They're going to find out about my father! _Trying to mask the bile that percolated into the back of her throat, she raised her hand. "What about privacy laws?"

"Those laws don't apply here, since we're a federal agency acting under the new statute. We have the authority to request identifiable information on individuals, should it be deemed necessary, as long as that data is not given to commercial or other private agencies, or agencies that do not have clearance or demonstrate a need for the data." He waved his hand at her. "Now, this sounds much more invasive and melodramatic than it really is. And of course, volunteers of Nightwatch won't fall under surveillance. There is no need. Obviously, if you are here, then you know how to communicate effectively and don't require assistance, unless you should ask. We're not asking anyone to bug houses and hang outside people's domiciles in an abandoned shuttle, just keep your eyes and ears open, that's all. We know all of you are busy with your job duties, and this is not time intensive, just to illustrate how little drama this really entails. But, should you decide to become part of our collaborative project, we will draft a letter to your supervisors or commanding officers, and pay for any time you do happen to be taken away from your current duties. You will receive a hundred-fifty credit stipend per month."

_So a hundred- fifty clams a month to spy on people. Except they don't know that's what I'm doing now, and they are the target. Watching the Watchers. _The thought of volunteering for Nightwatch turned her blood cold, but what better way to get into the inner cabal, and what better way to stay off their radar. The meeting wore on, elaborating the fine points of their new authority and limitations, and then the solicitation for volunteers, with a station set up in the back for contact information and flyers. When Havah came to the front of the line, a man with white-blonde hair winked at her as he took her information and handed her a black armband emblazoned with the Nightwatch emblem. She resisted the urge to tie it around his throat. She slowly put it on and returned to the office. Jensen eyed it, nodded curtly and then left for another meeting. She sat feeling the constriction around her arm, as though it was cutting off all the blood to her fingers, and then finished her work for the day and went home. As she entered, the mirror in the hall caught her reflection. With her dark pressed shirt, pants and armband, a ghost from the old Nationalist Party stared back at her. She ripped off the band, tossed it on the floor, threw cloths over the mirrors in the apartment and turned out the lights.

Since the Nightwatch was a global organization, meetings were organized by geographic location and collaborative agency. Havah attended meetings with most of the people from the main campus. They started off innocently, more like gossip and chat sessions than formal meetings. After a few more however, the calls for 'reports' became pointed. And then a floating representative attended, a slick fellow named Mr. Welles. His dulcet tone instantly needled under Havah's skin. "All we are looking for are indications of events or people who are acting unusual, even if you think that it is trivial. It is better to have the information and bring the issue into the open, here, so that it can be discussed."

"I had green hair and an eyebrow ring in high school. Define unusual." Havah blurted.

That was a mistake, now she had attracted his attention and he slithered over to her chair. And he was one of those people who had no sense of personal boundary space, and put his hands on the person to whom he was speaking for emphasis or persuasion, and he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders as he spoke, coming around behind her, looking down at her upturned face, like a parent patronizing a child. "Yes, and I'm sure it was unusual at the time, but you do not have green hair now. You have learned that it was disruptive, and you have grown out of the adolescent need to rebel against authority. It is no longer necessary. Correct?"

Havah shrugged his hands off and nodded grudgingly.

"Now you are able to behave in a manner more constructive for your society. The kind of behavior we are looking for is not constructive for anyone, including the individuals who maintain it. If that behavior is identified, we will better serve those people by assisting them in adopting a more positive outlook and help them better organize their lives, relationships, and work spaces."

_Behavior, proper behavior. _Havah thought inadvertently of her father and his concern. "So, what kind of data exactly are you looking for? You still haven't defined 'unusual'. You want us to report, but we need a format. What constitutes 'bad behavior'? Where are the boundaries of what we are supposed to report?"

"Whether they are attitudes, beliefs, knowledge or behavior, 'negative' can be interpreted as dissension or resentment concerning authority, whether it is a laxness in the following of laws, or the expression of misleading ideas about the current establishment. Misrepresentation can be dangerous, and is in fact against civil law, as you know, and can be litigated under libel." His silken voice had a hard edge.

"Ahh. So…and I'm just trying to clarify your expectations, misleading ideas can mean speaking out against the President or a given current policy?"

"It can…yes, because it can lead to barriers in efficiency. Understand however, that this is not a police state by any means. We are not penalizing individuals who are investigated, merely identifying needs in order to address them, heading off strife before it can come to fruition. Do you understand?"

Havah forced a smile. "Yes, thank you." She had played a dangerous game questioning in that manner.

But after a moment of scrutiny, Mr. Welles beamed at her and clapped his hand on her shoulder again. That was really getting aggravating. "Good, good. It is perfectly fine to ask questions, and good that you are taking care with the quality of information, excellent! And now that your confusion has been clarified, I'm sure we can look forward to thorough observations from you, Miss…"

"Lassee." She almost cringed, the affected smile trying to slide off her face.

But his praise had sparked a spate of reports from other participants. Oddly enough, they genuinely seemed to believe that they were assisting the people at the heart of the incidents or rumors they proffered, and even offered good faith suggestions on how to help them. Havah just sat and watched. _Who gets this data, and what is really done with it?_ She wondered, but decided not to call more attention to herself in an open meeting for now.

A couple months later, she was on line at the cafeteria, when a Nightwatch member spoke next to her. "Gorgeous day today. You'd almost believe that spring was coming. Perfect day to feed gulls." It was Lieutenant Commander Byron. He took his lunch in a box and exited the cafeteria. She sat down with her tray, fighting the urge to go after him. What if it was a trap? He was Nightwatch now, after all. He had come through once before though. She put her lunch in a box and left. _Gulls, he went to feed the gulls. _

She found him near the lake, sitting on the cement stairs leading to the water. She said nothing, but sat next to him and unpacked her food. He kept tossing bread to the birds. He reached into his jacket and placed a data crystal in her box. "It needs to be off-world."

"And what makes you think I'd do that? What makes you think I could if I wanted to?"

"Because you wear this for the same reason as me." He tugged the band. She didn't answer, just pocketed the crystal. "Thanks."

Havah slipped the crystal into the port, hand quivering. God, there it was. Since leaving Babylon 5 and talking at length with Sinclair, she had learned that Garibaldi had found a triangulation device, just before the explosion of Earth Force One. Before an investigation could take place, the device, and the man who shot Garibaldi had all been transferred to the custody of a federal agent by order of the new 'President'. None of the cargo, electronic or human ever reached Earth. But here was a ghost, the minutest paper trail, like dissolving footprints in the sand. The first document was the draft of a plan, dated to five years ago, when Clark had still been a senator from Florida. It outlined in frightening detail the formation of an agency called the Ministry of Peace, with subdivisions including one serving the same functions as the Nightwatch. A foreign policy, which was a polar opposite to the one Clark had espoused under Santiago, was elaborated right down to a hypothesized domination of Human business and military on the interstellar exchange. And one of the names listed in the meeting minutes at which this plan was drafted was a Mr. Morden. The next set of documents was more current, dated to November 13, 2258, a month and a half before the murder of President Santiago. It was an accounting transaction signed by Clark that established a special fund, for access by an agency called Future Corp. She began recognizing names on the roster of Board members. Many were members of other extremely powerful corporations, Anthony Bartlett, Walter Higgins, William Edgars…and she was no longer surprised… Morden. She scrolled through documents, and the next set of data was a batch of personal information: names, addresses, credit chit numbers, names and addresses of relatives of the individuals cataloged, extremely detailed information, such as addresses of elementary schools and family schedules. Havah realized with a chill that this was data on the President's secret service detail, the officers' personnel files, and far beyond that, the minutia of their most private lives, something no one should have had access to. Santiago's security had been compromised on the most basic level. Finally, there was a purchase order for a set of triangulation devices. The buyer was Future Corp. Hands scrambling to secure the data before it disappeared in a burst of flame, Havah made three more copies of the data crystal. This was going to get off-world. If she had her way, it was going to blast from very com-port across the galaxy, after she made sure that Sinclair got the data first.

After joining the Nightwatch, it was not difficult for Havah to come up with justification for sending her to the international Emergency Management and Biodefense Conference to be held on Babylon 5 in a couple of weeks. It would even have been possible for her to justify a trip to Minbar, to 'keep an eye' on her old supervisor, Sinclair, but given Jensen's recent eleventh hour companions, Havah couldn't risk even mentioning Minbar. She would just have to take a few days before the conference and get away for a while.

She dashed up the trail to the compound, nearly knocking down a trainee in her path. She righted the stammering young Minbari woman, and apologized to the cadet who had recognized her and was trying, haltingly, to salute Havah. Then she pelted away again into Sinclair's office, put the crystal on the table, and leaned forward. "This is it, sir! We can nail him!"

He put it into the port and viewed in silence. The silence lengthened after he finished scrolling. He sighed from the deepest part of his soul, and stared at a blank screen for another moment before saying some of the hardest words in his life. "No. We can't, not yet."

Havah stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it a moment to clear out the wax that must have been blocking her hearing. "What? Sir?"

"We can't use this yet. I knew the Shadows were involved but…Think. If we expose Clark now, like this, the Shadows will know they have been discovered, at least to a greater degree than we can afford right now. It will have to wait."

It was the same story that had kept the information from G'Kar, except now it was her world, their world that was being sold. "But…but…wait…how long?"

"I don't know, until we have more of a force against them. Right now, we don't stand a chance—"

She knew she was being insubordinate by interrupting him, her Minbari Anla Shok instructors would have been appalled, but she couldn't hold in her outburst. "But, Clark killed the President…Sir! He's a murderer, there's a conspiracy, he…they—"

"I know, Havah, but that's the point. The conspirators are in too deep and you have to look at the big picture! I know—"

"NO! NO, Sir? It's Earth, we can't just…we can't just sell them down the river, we can't just let this go!" Her voice cracked.

"We're not selling anyone down the river, but we have to lay low on this! We can't just go charging in! There is no other choice, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Havah looked down like a Minbari soldier addressing a superior officer, back rigid. "Yes, Entilzah Sinclair! I understand."

"Dammit, Havah, look at me! Don't pull that Minbari crap on me now, we've known each other too long and too well to do this now!"

She looked at him with betrayed eyes.

He flicked at a pile of papers on his desk disconsolately, and paced like a caged lion. "Do you think I'm any happier about this than you? Do you think I like the idea of that …megalomaniac in office, or those Shadows whispering in his ear? You know better than that! But we won't help Earth at all if we act on this now! We will in fact destroy our chances of ever being rid of Clark, those in league with him, or the Shadows. You know it, you're too smart not to know it!" He came to stand directly in front of her and looked down into her face. "We WILL be ready, and we will beat them and take our world back. We will. I give you my word that the time will come and we will fight this, no matter what it takes."

She met his earnest gaze and nodded numbly. "Yes, sir."

He put his hands on her arms, and looked at her a moment, and then let them drop. "This isn't for nothing. The more data we collect, the more prepared we will be to deal with them. This information you've given me is just the kind of thing we need to know."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"

He exhaled heavily. "No, not for now. I need you to return and keep gathering this information if you can. How did you get it?"

"Apparently, I have a friend in high places. His name is William Byron. He's a Lieutenant Commander. He says that he saw me on Proxima Three. Same guy that gave me the crystal with Clark's little hospital trip."

He nodded. "I remember him. He was really bucking for a posting to the Babylon Project. He was supposed to be assigned, but then the station blew up, and he was posted to Earth Central. By the time it was rebuilt, they must have been looking at other people."

"He doesn't seem to like Clark much, or what's happening on Earth, although I don't know how much he knows. He said he joined the Nightwatch for the same reason I did. By the way, I joined the Nightwatch. It's the Ministry of Peace's new watchdog organization. I figured it was the best way to stay out from under their scrutiny, and get access to more closely guarded information."

"I agree. I don't need to tell you to watch your heels in the viper's den."

"No sir."

The back path down the mountain was deserted, and Havah walked for solitude. She didn't get it. A silhouette slid onto the path in front of her, and there was Felshenn, like a bony Doberman, asserting his territory.

"Don't you have a home?" She said acerbically.

He completely ignored her dig. "I did not expect you to keep your word and return for training."

"I didn't. I came to give Entilzah Sinclair some more information. And now I'm going back to Earth."

"You told Satai Neroon that you would undergo training when you returned to Minbar!"

_Here we go again. _"No, I didn't. I said that I would come back for training when I had time. I don't right now."

"But you have time to take a stroll across the mountain."

"I wanted to think. Look, we have bigger problems right now than my manners!"

"You mean Earth has bigger problems. What a surprise! Who did you Humans tempt into annihilating you now?"

She clenched her fists, nearly bit a hole in her cheek and stalked past him. But he reached out and grabbed her arm. "You don't walk away—"

That was all she needed. She twisted her wrist around, hooking his arm and locking out his elbow, wanting desperately to hear it snap. But he was lithe and rolled out of it. Before he could get his bearings, she snap-kicked at his groin. He caught her foot and twisted her leg. She dropped to relieve the pressure and roll out of it, catching him across the neck with her other shin in a leg scissors that took him to the ground more gracefully than she would have liked. As fast as she was, he was slightly faster for the moment, and before she could press her advantage, he tossed her, like a bag of dry leaves, as she rolled over him, aiming a knife-hand at his throat. She didn't land as easily as he threw her. Her back whumphed into a tree trunk, expelling her breath in a jolt. Shaking it off, she lunged again, faking with a reverse punch to the left side of his face, then twisting on the inside and catching him with a right elbow, except that she also caught bone, and slowed to nurse the split skin. In an instant, he recovered and came back with his own elbow-backfist, which she ducked, and there followed a short flurry of strikes and blocks, until he tried to sweep her. Rather than trying to reverse the sweep, she grabbed the sides of his overcoat and pulled him down with her, planting her feet into his stomach, trying to launch him as far into orbit as she could. But he grabbed hold of her, and, careless of the incline, they went tumbling over rocks, twigs, and brambles down the slope. They thudded to rest against another giant trunk. Before she could scramble up, he pinned her in a snare of long sinewy arms and legs, like thick creeper vines. She struggled, trying to claw at his eyes, trying to wrap her leg up around his chest to bend him back over his own knees, but he was too strong. He lay atop her and suddenly amidst the waste of energy she was expending, she felt a tremor and heard a rumble. That bastard was laughing! That made her angrier and she growled and strained against him, but couldn't budge him. All she could do was feel his body heave in his own personal moment of hilarity. He put his mouth near her ear, and in the most infuriatingly scathing voice he whispered, "I would have thought you could fight better than that, Changling. They did train you to be an alyt of the Anla Shok after all! But of course, their training can only live up to the quality of the material, and you are only Human!" And then he let her go, and shoved away before she could retaliate.

"You can shove your denn bok right up your rump! Oh, that's right, there's one wedged in there already, all the way up to your pinched pointy rat nose!"

His smile faltered. He didn't know what a 'rat' was, but it sounded foul.

She lunged again and away they went: attack, deflect, counter-attack, recover. It could have gone on ten minutes or ten hours. She winded him with a devastating side-thrust to the solar plexus, which he realized would have dropped many of the other soldiers he knew. How had he left that open, he wondered as he gagged. As she came in and feinted another kick to his groin and followed with an uppercut to his jaw, he side-stepped drunkenly, grabbed her arm and shoulder and tried to plant her face-first into a rock-face. She whirled, folding the arm and caught him in the jaw with an elbow to the neck, levering him into the rock instead. They both slid down the stone face into the burm and sat in the dirt, panting and staring at each other. After a few minutes, his smirk turned into a chuckle. Havah just glared.

He knew that look. She had the defeated look of a child who suddenly learns that the world isn't the way she was taught it should be. The grief of betrayal was outlined in the set of her mouth.

_What do you have when your society becomes a different entity than the one you swore to protect? I know that well. The warrior caste does._ "Your government…things are very bad?" He eyed her coolly, as he stripped pieces of grass, but his voice was solicitous.

Havah looked down, picking at a twig, and then nodded slightly. "Yeah." Their eyes met.

"I am sorry." He said softly, rose and left her to her thoughts.

Havah met the troops of new cadets who were being trained at the central facility, and met with the recent graduates, who were yet to be assigned. Despite Sinclair's efforts, they all, even the Humans, now affected the Minbari protocol of looking down when addressed by or speaking to Sinclair and her, as senior officers. But it was an indication that the Anla Shok had become a significant establishment once again. Reports were in from the other training facilities. There was a burgeoning matter of concern at Zagros Seven. The camp was hosted by a Drazi colony, but they had been harried recently by the presence of Centauri war ships encroaching and claiming to provide a 'stabilizing presence' for the area. The colony was agricultural. What was there to stabilize?

Havah asked. "Do you want me to pay a visit there on my way back?"

"No, this report is pretty thorough. I just want everyone out of there. We'll move the site. This is no longer a good position for the camp. The instructors can see to the relocation. For now they can return to Minbar, until a new camp can be set up. That'll take some time. Since you're stopping at Babylon 5, you can start scouting out new locations with ambassadors in different areas."

"Will do."

"Before you leave, remember, I told you that Delenn commissioned work on a new project. The prototype is almost complete. You should see it and become familiar with it. This will cheer us both up."

Havah smiled and followed him to a waiting shuttle-craft. It took them to a dry-dock in orbit. At the dock, a ship was moored like no other ship Havah had ever seen. It had the tapered curves of a Minbari ship, and a skin that was reminiscent of Vorlon technology. A hybrid. The design was completely new, more air than ship. The hatch whispered open and they entered a space that was impossibly larger than it had looked from the outside. The bridge was as roomy and light as the hallway had been, and the Religious caste crew-members manning the controls snapped to attention as they entered. Havah stared at the controls. They were so sensitive that they responded to the electromagnetic force of the hand held above the diodes. She would have to review the specs because this ship was fueled and assembled with technology she had never seen before.

Sinclair, who had been peering in happy wonder around him, watched the reaction on her face. Except it was not Havah he saw. A young Minbari woman stood in reverie, and then turned to him. She looked down as was customary, but he knew her face. She looked just like Havah, but different, there was something not-Havah in her face, aside from the structural changes of a full-blooded Minbari. And he knew this woman, aside from her resemblance to Havah. Recognition eluded him. He passed his hand over his tired eyes and through his hair, and Havah was back. After this briefing, it was time to get some sleep.

This technology was amazing! It was built to be both a long-range war-ship, and a fighter-ship with more accuracy and maneuverability than the mammoth cruisers. With a fleet of these, they would have a spitting chance. Havah turned to Sinclair to ask if she could take her for a spin, and halted. An older Minbari male faced her whom Havah now recognized as the Valen from her dreams. He was not a specter. She could have reached out and touched him. He looked like Sinclair. Before she could ask what he was doing here, the ship morphed and closed in around her. She could feel it encapsulate her skin, singing to her. She could feel Valen and the others as the ship moved through space towards a moon that she now knew as Fali'shar, Shelter Peace Planet. She couldn't see the moon but she knew it was there. They docked and as the ship melted away again, leaving her and nine others including Valen, they faced a being that looked to Havah like an angel. '_What is an angel_?', something in her thought.

And then the light emitted by the being blurred, and Havah was staring at the glow of the diodes under the careful hands of a crewman. He was looking at her strangely from under his eyelashes, not wanting to be disrespectful by looking at her directly. Sinclair was speaking.

"Havah? What do you think?"

_About the ship, or about what just happened?_ "It's…it's awesome! Can we take her out for a test drive?"

"Unfortunately, not yet. The engineers are keeping her until they finish perfecting a couple of the specs. I already tried wheedling them into one run, but they won't budge. So we'll just have to be patient until they are done. It's good to know that they are being perfectionists about it, though. We'll need these ships to be as close to flawless as possible. I have a feeling the design will be tested far beyond its limits. You'll be given training on them the next time you're back, including shooting solutions with a crew, and with a fleet, provided the rest of the ships are completed."

"Yes, sir!"

Havah left in good spirits, but troubled by the daydream. It was intruding into her waking life now, almost as though the two worlds were beginning to blend and run over each other, and she was living as much in the dream reality as she was in the here and now. Maybe it was a good thing for this strangeness to creep into her conscious mind. Then she could see where it led, and get rid of it.

Babylon 5 was crawling with Nightwatch personnel. Every time she turned around, she felt the ugly murmur of the legal rumor mill. And worse, while on the trip to Minbar, Earth had taken a stance concerning the Centauri-Narn conflict, and was supporting the Centauri! The wheel of galactic history was back where it had begun for the thousandth time, and no one had figured out that they were going in circles. As she arranged to meet with the ambassadors from the League of Non-Aligned worlds, she encountered both G'Kar and Mollari. G'Kar was a changed man. The crags in his face were deeper, riddled with sadness and inevitability, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. It was the same look worn by most of the Narns on the station. Some were refugees. These were the quietest, with hollow hunted eyes. Others had residence on the station, and hadn't borne the full brunt of the atrocities being enacted against their home-world, so they had the luxury of belligerence and vocal indignation. It must have been contagious, because Havah's chest knotted with the same anger every time she saw a displaced or injured Narn wander by, as furious with her own world for supporting this as she was with the Centauri for causing it. Humans recognized the look of the hunted. _We've been there, only twelve years ago! Are our memories that short? I remember when we were asking for help from everyone, and no one would help us…except the Narns! I was a senior in high school. It was like yesterday!_ She wanted to spit at Mollari when passing him in the hall, until she saw his eyes. His face maintained a taut hauteur at all times, like a mask, but his eyes were as haunted as G'Kar's, and by something as dark and terrible as the shadow of Centauri slavery and ethnic cleansing. He didn't want this. Earth was not the only torn nation, they all were.

"I am sorry, but with things as they are, the Centauri are expanding, and we just cannot risk attracting any attention. I'm afraid we cannot offer this territory for use to your organization at this time, for any price. Perhaps in a few months." Such was the Brakiri answer, and the Vreen, and all of the other non-aligned worlds. No dice on finding an alternate site for a camp. People were too scared.

She hunkered in the rear of the Nightwatch meeting, hoping Mr. Welles, who had floated like rubbish out to this part of the galaxy, wouldn't see her and pin her for a report. Several of Garibaldi's people were there, including Zack Allen. That surprised Havah at first, until Welles started pressing him for information about an unfortunately opinionated shopkeeper. Zack stammered and hemmed, like a man realizing too late that he had sat on a black widow egg sac, and it had hatched, as Welles' hands snaked over his shoulders.

"All we are asking is for you to confirm that he made these statements, nothing more…"

Havah watched the bizarre hallucination as the black widow babies were picking through Zack's hair, skittering over his arms and legs.

"He's just a shopkeeper, he doesn't mean anything. He's a good guy, I mean—"

"We are not asking you do anything or to badmouth him, just a confirmation. Did you or did you not hear him making these statements?"

"Yeah, I guess." They stuck to his face and uniform like black confetti. He looked sick, as Welles kept talking. She imagined the parents of the arachnids crowding in on either side of Morden, simpering mortuary arias with tar-candy breath.

"There you see. That's not so bad…" Havah didn't hear the rest, and Zack didn't smile. He responded as much as he had to, but he knew something was wrong now. Havah's daydream dissolved as the meeting ended, and if Welles had seen her, he hadn't singled her out.

The garden was packed. Dozens of people had gathered to hear the speech about to be given by Sheridan. It was reputed to be an apology to the Centauri for harboring a crippled Narn cruiser. However, knowing Sheridan as people on the station were coming to, about half of them had gathered to hear him actually apologize, and the other half had gathered to see what he was really likely to do, which was to tell the Centauri, masked in polite beg-your-pardons, to kiss his aft-deck. Which was also what most of the people there, Centauri excluded, really wanted to hear. Most of the Humans, the Minbari, and various peoples from the non-aligned worlds had been appalled at the use of mass drivers against Narn, whether their governments had the balls to back them up or not. So when the Centauri ambassador arrived, he was given a wide berth. People murmured in tight groups and cast catty glances at the morose man. Isolated, he pretended not to notice. Havah almost felt sorry for him.

"Do you believe this horse-honkey?" John Kellerman, one of her old co-workers sidled up. "Hiya Havah! Long time no see! How ya been?"

"Hey! Yeah, pretty good. How've you been?"

"Not bad, not bad, never mind all the political garbage goin' on." Then he noticed the armband. "Oh, no. Tell me you didn't."

"It's not what you think."

"Maybe it's not what _you_ think. That's not like you at all, you were always such a hippie. Besides, I thought you were on Minbar."

"I was. Then I went to work at Earth Gov Central office, for the EA Emergency Management Agency. My supervisor there thought I should join the Nightwatch to facilitate interagency cooperation."

"Well, so what happened to your position on Minbar? What about Sinclair?"

Havah had prepared for moments like this, inevitable questions from friends. But no matter how much preparation she had spent, she still felt flat-footed trying to answer. "I still have contact with him." She practiced the 'Grey Council silence' as she had come to think of it, the quiet closing of conversation beyond any further pursuit.

"Oh…well, don't turn right-wing wacko on us now. What do you think about all this?" He asked cautiously, eyeing the band.

"John, I'm the same person I was when I left. I think it's a load of bull! The use of mass drivers violated all Weapons of Mass Destruction treaties everywhere, and Earth Gov is nuts to tiptoe around this. Sheridan did what he had to do. That ship had nowhere else to go, they were refugees. Earth Gov is up in arms because his actions didn't meet the current political agenda. That's what this is about. It's gotten bad back home."

"Yeah, I heard. The backwash is starting to ooze its way out here too."

Havah sighed.

He spoke again, looking for answers. "What is it really like, at Earth Central?"

Havah just shook her head, and then held his eyes with a penetrating gaze. "I'll give you a piece of advice. Don't openly criticize the current administration, except with people you trust. _Especially around anyone wearing this band or symbol._" She tugged at it.

He nodded. "That's what I thought."

"So how's Carmen? I stopped in but she wasn't there. How're the outbreaks? Anything interesting?"

"The usual suspects: salmonella, shigella, ecoli, influenza, hep A. The station finally closed down that place in Down Below, the one that had the great hamburgers, that we always said were really the voles they trapped. Well, they had another ecoli outbreak and didn't meet the corrections specified by the health officer."

"So, no more vole-burgers?"

"No. Vole burgers are off the menu for Babylon 5. No more playing Russian roulette with people's gastrointestinal tracts. Sorry, I know you liked them."

"What about the place near there, that served the roach fritters or whatever the hell it was that always seemed to fall into those things?"

"They're still open."

"Ah…that's comforting."

An explosion tore through a tram high up near the core, and a tiny dot was falling. Mutters raced through the crowd as quickly as the explosion. It was Sheridan. Minutes passed and there was no rescue, no time. The critical moment at which any Earth Force equipment could have helped him came and went, and he plummeted, from a speck to a doll-like figure. Then a bright pulse of light streamed from the crowd and rose into the air. It was a _malach_, an angel. No…a Minbari figure clothed in light, Valeria…the figure kept shifting faces in front of Havah. Well, malachim were supposed to have many faces, many eyes, many forms. They were shape-shifters, adjusting their form to the Human, or Minbari ability to perceive them. Who knew what they really looked like? Havah wanted to fall to her knees, or remove her shoes, like the stories she had read about people's encounters with angels in the Torah. _Remove your shoes, for you are on holy ground_, she remembered. _Never bow to me, I am not the Almighty, only a messenger_, she remembered. And as she watched she remembered something else. She had seen this angel before, or a creature just like it. It was the Kosh from her dream. As she watched, Kosh drifted up and met Sheridan and floated back to ground. Sheridan was thunderstruck. He addressed Kosh respectfully and gratefully, and the malach nodded. His eyes emanated the sadness that Havah remembered from the dream. It had been him…a thousand years ago on a hidden moon.

There was no question now in Havah's mind that she was living in a haunted house, and that she shared a body with something else, another personality. One that remembered a war Havah had never seen, eight hundred years before Havah's mother's people ever reached the stars. The Minbari Grey Council could believe what they liked about the origin of her own soul, but to Havah, this other presence, the one to whom the dreams were attached was a _dybbuk_, an intruder, a lost soul. No wonder that Centauri woman had called her that, and the Minbari warriors called her a changeling. She was, or at least they had sensed something in her that was. She stared and stared, long after Kosh had vanished into his suit again, and the room was a-whisper with what everyone had seen. _Angels are real. After all this time. _She thought. _Angels are real…and so are demons._

"Havah! Did you see that!"

"Yes. I saw."

"Amazing! Hey, are you alright?"

"No."

John peered at her, and clapped her on the shoulder. "I understand."

_I doubt it, but thank you._ She smiled and slipped away to her quarters.

As Havah wound her way through the station, she passed Anla Shok she had seen trained. They nodded to her. If any noticed the armband, they expressed nothing. She contacted Delenn to notify her of recent developments on Earth, and be brought up to date concerning the situation on the station.

Delenn said, pouring a cup of tea, "I have given partial command of the Anla Shok to Captain Sheridan."

"So he knows about us? Does he know about the Shadows?"

"We have been preparing him."

"Then you trust him."

"I believe he will prove powerful in the coming war. Kosh has shown him the past, and he has demonstrated a desire to join our efforts. He lost his wife to the Shadows."

"When? I thought they were just re-appearing?"

"She was aboard the same expedition as Mr. Morden."

"Oh. Wow, it's a small galaxy. Is it possible that she could have survived as Morden did?"

"It is possible, but she would be as he now is. She would no longer be the person he knew and loved. If she survived, it will only be to serve them. They will have twisted her to suit their purposes."

"But would that be permanent? I mean, what if she were found, could she be deprogrammed or something? I mean, do you or Kosh think that people can return from that sort of thing eventually?"

"There has been no indication that anyone has ever succeeded in such a return."

"But that doesn't mean it couldn't happen, just that they haven't yet." It was strange, now that Delenn had mentioned Sheridan's wife, someone who had been connected to a network of people that mourned her, Havah wondered about Morden. Who had he been before he became…well…the Antichrist? The word just popped in there, and that's when Havah realized how polarized this conflict had become, how polarized all of their thinking had become, without even being aware of it. Here were these mysterious beings, looking to everyone who saw them, like angels or some other cultural equivalent, and on the opposite end were these other beings who matched every cultural description of demons. How Zoroastrian, with beings of light fighting the forces of darkness for dominance over the galaxy across thousands of years, before any of the younger races, even the Minbari, had ever existed. What had caused this conflict to start? That was one of Sinclair's original questions. Were they any closer to an answer than when they started this preparation?

The door chimed, it was Sheridan. He glanced at the armband and straightened stiffly. Delenn immediately corrected him.

"Captain Sheridan. You were introduced earlier to the Anla Shok aboard the station. This is Anlashok Na Lassee. She is in charge of the Anla Shok in Earth's sector, and also acts as an executive officer for the Entilzah, headquartered on Minbar. You did not meet her earlier because she has been stationed on Earth…among the Nightwatch." Delenn glanced at the band, surmising quickly what had occurred, since Havah had not gotten a chance to brief her yet.

Havah bowed slightly to Sheridan.

He nodded. "Lassee…Havah Lassee?"

"Yes, sir."

"So what's the news from Earth?"

"There's quite a bit. As you've already learned, the Ministry of Peace and the Nightwatch are calling the shots politically. They have authorization to delve into any private records, and their targets appear to be the politically and socially disenfranchised, and anyone whom they perceive to be a threat, but they're not targeting anyone big yet. You were the first person in a position of authority that I've seen them go after."

"Wonderful."

"I also have information about Clark, and about a man named Morden."

"I questioned him here."

"Well, he and Clark are linked. He was involved with the formation of a draft detailing everything that the administration is now instituting, right down to the use of the Nightwatch. He was on the board of an organization called Future Corporation, which purchased triangulation devices of the same type Garibaldi found, but a couple months before the assassination. As you must know by now, it was an assassination."

"Yes. Clark's physician fled here with information demonstrating that there was nothing physically wrong with Clark when he left Earth Force One, claiming to be sick. Kosh helped to hide the man, when the feds came looking for him."

"Is he still here?"

"No, and we handed the data over to a woman who said that she was part of a resistance movement."

Havah thought for a moment. That was certainly possible. She had gotten data from one such individual already. "There is a resistance movement, but it doesn't appear to be well organized yet. It's hard to identify these people, with things as they are back home. People are scared."

"It'll only get harder."

"That's true. The Shadows have been involved too, they're the ones pulling the puppet strings really." She filled him in on the conversation between Morden and Jensen, and her findings concerning the Markab plague, and the first phase of vaccinations for 'Grey Wind Fever'.

"I think that's a sound assumption. You said that Morden is never alone." He turned to Delenn, and then to her, and said curtly. "Thank you, Anlashok Lassee."

Delenn nodded, still looking shell-shocked about the origins of the Markab plague. She had not expected such atrocity so soon. The Shadows had been a daunting enemy in the last war, and it was clear that their ideas of civilization and honor did not match those of the Minbari, but this went beyond even the most marginal concept of fair play.

Havah returned to her quarters, and began searching the computer files on the mythology of different races and different cultures. She knew of many Earth pantheons, but how well did they coordinate with those of other races? _Could we all have had contact with these beings before space flight? Have we been influenced in earlier history, and if so, for how long?_ Of Earth legends, she found the Persian Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu, the opposing forces. Coyote the trickster tripped through Navajo tales, as Loki did through the Norse. In the Torah, were accounts of ha-shatan, the adversary angel, created by God to act as a prosecuting attorney and challenge man, in order to inspire growth. Among the legends of other races she found the Kal 'tot of the Minbari, the changelings sent among the Minbari people to lead to their annihilation, beings driven by Zhal 'An, the destructive principle of Dol 'An, as antimatter to matter. Numerous Centauri gods of strife marched, blasted, and poisoned their way into the stories she encountered, although many of these tales appeared to revolve around the detriment of forsaking tradition. That appeared to be how many of the researched cultures dealt with the various forces of chaos, by building a wall of ritual. The Book of G'quon had made mention of forces matching the description of the Shadows a thousand years ago, which had been incorporated into their myth cycles. But since it was considered disrespectful for the book to be read in anything other than the original Narn, and since it was an ancient dialect that had to be replicated word-for-word on only the most perfect of parchment, it didn't lend itself well to electronic storage, and Havah could not find it among the archives. But many of these characters of chaos did not correspond to the polarization of evil and good that appeared to be forming between the Shadows and the Vorlons. If these stories were roundabout attempts to describe actual contact situations, then maybe the answer of motive was already there, in the stories. Some acted as agents of chaos, some represented true evil, but others represented a strange guardianship, the givers of painful but necessary lessons. What was the real nature of the relationship between these Shadows, and the mysterious Vorlon allies of the younger races?

The door chimed and Havah unglued her bleary eyes from the screen. She opened the door and Birin poked her head in. Havah had lost track of Birin's posting here. The Minbari gave Havah a hearty hug, in fact, came as close to tackling Havah as the genteel Religious Caste woman ever would. Birin stood back. "Havah, it has been too long! How are you?…You look…Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How's it going? How are you and Trel?"

She beamed. "He…we are well. We have gone through the second of the ceremonies for joining. Part of my family agreed to it and conducted the ceremony. The others were angry when they found out, but it is too late now. So they had to accept it. They will come around."

"Boy, you're getting pretty sly. What about his family?"

"They were concerned more about getting along with my family, than about our joining specifically, but they seem to be going along with it. His father was afraid though, that too much contact with the Religious caste will make Trel impractical and dreamy." She laughed, "But then his mother asked how that was different than the way he was before we met."

"Good point. He is a bit of a space cadet, no offense to the Religious caste."

"Of course he is a space cadet, he is Anla Shok, but he has passed from being a cadet months ago."

"I…" Havah shook her head and snickered. "That's an expression for someone who's not all there, you know, two cans short of a six-pack, a squirrel short of a picnic, elevator doesn't go to the top floor?…"

Birin's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! Of course! You mean, he is crazy!"

"Yeah."

Birin grinned.

_Wow_, Havah had missed her.

And Bir had missed the intense Human, with her colorful colloquialisms, especially the ones that irritated the more stodgy members of the Minbari. What an education she had gotten! Her friend looked worn though, no surprise considering where she had been. "Havah, are you really alright?" Birin knew that it was rude to ask such a question a second time, but Havah's appearance was marked with exhaustion. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her face was shades paler than it should have been considering her olive complexion.

Havah really didn't want to talk about work. "Yeah, I've just been thinking too hard about a lot of things."

Birin sat quietly. "About your father?"

That was a pretty good guess. "Yeah, I guess. I'm going back for training soon. I was really surprised that he wanted that. I thought he'd rather bury me in the backyard somewhere."

"The Warrior caste makes sure to watch over their own, or at least anyone who could eventually lead back to them. And Satai Neroon is one of the most traditional Minbari I have seen. He believes in the old ways. He is also a father figure to many, even if he does not know yet how to be a father. The instinct is in him. I know that you have your differences, and that my caste has their differences with him, but he is a good man at heart. He was just raised to be a warrior and nothing else. Had he been born into another caste, and given training, he might have made a good priest. I think that Shai Alyt Branmer was trying to influence him and give him a more thoughtful side. And if his fondness for the Shai Alyt was any indication, then it was beginning to work."

"Geez, so his death was even worse for Neroon than we thought."

Birin nodded, and cocked her head. There was more in this woman than the recent struggles with her father, or even with her home-world. She just waited.

Havah's thoughts drifted from her father to the other scruples that she had never shared with her Minbari compatriot. Why? Because she was Religious caste, and she might interpret Havah's dilemma the wrong way. What was the wrong way? Havah didn't even know herself what caused the dreams. "I've been having trouble sleeping. Well, lately I've been having trouble awake. I keep daydreaming, except they're more intense than normal dreams."

"About what?"

Havah let out a heavy breath. "About a woman named Turanni, about her life, her kid, her marriage, her choices."

"Yes. The chosen of Valen." She seemed unsurprised. "It is known to most of us now that you have a Minbari soul, someone interesting even among the Minbari."

Havah balked. "No, I don't mean that. I don't think it's that, I mean I don't think it works quite that way…She's in my head, but I don't think she's part of me. I mean I don't think I have her soul, I think she's borrowing space in my head."

Bir just looked confused. "I do not see how that is possible. How can she be in your head, inside you, without being part of you?"

"Haven't you ever heard of possession? Isn't there some Minbari equivalent? What about the changelings?"

"No!" Bir gasped. "I mean, of course the changelings _look _Minbari, but they are not. That is different. Their souls are alien. The horror of the Kal 'tot is in what they appear to be but aren't. Turanni could never be such a soul. She was Minbari when she lived."

"I wasn't trying to insult her or anything, I just…ok…How do the Kal 'tot take their forms, don't they borrow Minbari bodies?"

"They can, I suppose, but it is just not the same. You are saying that because you are Human, you do not think that she could be born of a Human? Valen was a Minbari not born of Minbari."

"And what did your people think about him at first? Didn't they think he was a changeling for a while? I read that he did experience resistance, and that his children experienced some persecution because of this perception."

"Yes, that is true. His path was not an easy one. I do not know, Havah, I can only tell you what I believe. You must come to your own conclusions. Can you tell me about them, about the visions? When did they start?"

"When I was a kid. I don't remember how old I was exactly, only that I woke up screaming a few times because of dreams about these Shadows. My mom used to despair that they were never going to get any sleep again. I drew pictures of Minbari war cruisers, the real old ones, when I was in kindergarten. And these images have been getting stronger, more frequent, more insistent, like they're pushing everything else out of my head. Now I'm seeing things from her life when I'm awake."

"Like what?"

"Like Ambassador Kosh, like the first Grey Council, like some refuge that they built on a moon that they hid from everyone, with the Vorlon's aid. At first, all I saw was her death. I kept seeing her kid surrounded by Shadows, and felt her commit suicide, over and over, and over. And then, just when I thought I was going to go insane if I saw that one more time, I started seeing things from the rest of her life, mundane things, and other tragedies. I saw her father die in a battle between the Star Riders and the Wind Swords. I didn't even know who the clans were. I have enough of my own grief and my own problems, why am I carrying hers too?"

"Because she has…you…have never let go of the past. There is something that remains for you to do here. You are needed here and now."

"But, if that's true, why as a Human? Given how particular the Minbari are about foreigners."

"Why was Valen thought of as being a foreigner? Because that is exactly what we need. As a people we are too close to our own flaws and puzzles to see a solution sometimes. We require new points of view, people who, whether they are Minbari or not, do not always think like the status quo, even if we resist them. Valen created a paradigm shift, one that was partially subsumed again by tenacious traditions, some of which were no longer useful to us. His work was never finished, but we've been treating it as if it was. Maybe that is why you are here. Prophecy said that the two halves of the Minbari world soul would be re-united. Maybe the coming of Valen was when it split. I believe that is why Delenn chose to become part Human, to represent this re-union. And you, you also display this union in your own body, in your own genetics and your own soul, like Delenn, but unlike her, you have not accepted it yet. You still fight against it. You are still fighting the war in your own mind. Think. If your soul, yours and Sinclair's and a number of others had not been what they were, we may have continued the war and destroyed the only people who may be able to help us now. Perhaps you are here to help finish what Valen started, the integration of new ideas."

"That's never finished. People are supposed to be fluid and changing."

"Yes! See, you understand this, but do you know how many of the Minbari do not? They remain stuck in a past that does not always serve them. That is why we are a fading people."

Havah began to protest, but Birin held up her hand. "You do not have to say otherwise. I know it. The Grey Council cannot hide this from us. Many people feel it besides me. We are stagnating. That is why our warriors are restless, that is why our population rate is declining. We have reached a plateau, just as the Vorlons appear to have done, except that we have not attained their level of technology or enlightenment."

"Don't be so sure about that enlightenment part. The jury is still out on the Vorlons, and you seem to have found solutions to problems we haven't managed to solve yet."

"Have we? With what, our caste system? Every solution we have come up with has critical flaws. And your race is very young. You will find your solutions, perhaps quicker than we did, proportionally. You have tried a number of different solutions in a shorter period of time. Some of them were unmitigated disasters, but at least you've tried and learned."

"Don't be so sure about that either." Havah grimaced, thinking about the Nightwatch.

"Well, but we move more slowly, we insist on keeping things as they are until they explode. We wait until there is no choice but to change or self-destruct. Tradition is important, but it is not everything. There must be room for growth. I know that these dreams are a burden to you now, and I know that you do not believe. Everything in your experience tells you that this is unnatural, but I do believe that you are here for a reason. I have believed that since I met you that day in the mud, before I knew about your memories. That is what they are. You know that, don't you?"

Havah didn't answer. Birin put her hand on the distressed woman's arm. "This changes nothing between us, nothing in our interaction. I will still be arrested with you and get… stoned with you, on chocolate. I know that one of the things you are afraid of is that you will suddenly be treated differently, like a glass doll. But you are a friend, and it does not matter to me if you are Human or Minbari, or what your soul was in a past life. We are here now, and you are my friend. No matter what else you have to think about or wonder about, you do not have to wonder about that."

Havah put her hand on Birin's. "Thanks…Hey, speaking of chocolate, we should go get some food tomorrow, before I leave again for Earth. That place with the great burgers was closed due to a foodborne outbreak, but I know of another hole in the wall with great fritters…just don't analyze what might be in them."

Bir laughed. "Yes, that would be good, I would like to try this. The Humans would say that I have gotten an iron stomach since eating Human food."

"You might need it here."

"Mr. Welles. Can I speak with you for a moment?" A young uniformed security officer stood solicitously outside the door of Welles' quarters.

Sheridan's 'apology' to the Centauri for interfering in Centauri affairs had not gone as planned, but since there was nothing left to do, he was preparing to return to Earth. "Yes, of course. By all means, come in." Welles gestured warmly. "And you are?"

"Sgt. Dylan Lancaster, sir." He fidgeted, not knowing how to start.

Welles brought him a drink of water. "Relax, there is nothing to be nervous about. Here we are, just two men having a simple conversation."

Dylan fidgeted some more and then spoke, looking down at his feet. "I saw the roster of attendees at the meeting and I noticed Havah Lassee's name. Well…There's something that you should know about her. I used to date her, so…I don't want her to get in trouble or anything. I know she didn't want anyone finding out…about her father. But it might be important if he tries to manipulate her. You should know who he is…what he is."


	19. Chapter 19

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.Chapter 19—The Breath of Shiva

Mohan Satmahari manipulated mechanical arms, shifting the position of the artifact under the hood. He wasn't going to be foolish enough to touch it. This was amazing! The structure was like a living machine, possessing living cells! And it emitted a constant regular pulse of energy, linking all of the cells like a heartbeat, but more regular than any heartbeat. And where were the energy pulses coming from? There didn't appear to be any centralized organ. Unless it was linked by some remote sensor to a central organ elsewhere. The spectrograph indicated a number of fairly common elements in its composition, and a few he hadn't seen before. He replaced the small opalescent black artifact in the repository. And logged onto the mainframe. He had a penchant for getting into information he was not supposed to have, and a glee in finding it. Having had powerful patrons afforded him a degree of latitude and the ability to cover for the curious cat he really was. But someday, it was going to catch up with him. After some difficulty he hacked into the files he was looking for. It was typical of a large agency like this to keep each section working on a project, ignorant of what the other hand was doing. It seemed, in fact, more intentional than just poor communication and oversight. Either way, he was going to find out more about this artifact from the other files. He scanned files quickly, trying to absorb as much as possible. If he stayed on too long the system would detect it, or he might stumble onto an alarm. _Why does the Department of Energy have an interest in this? And the Ministry of Peace? _He wondered idly.

Tachyon bursts. It was receiving tachyon bursts, which had seemed at first like random background radiation, stellar static across a band of frequencies. But it wasn't random at all, just scrambled. _A communication device maybe?_ Then he read one of the archaeological log entries.

Mars, Sea of Tranquility, 10 latitude, 14.5 longitude 12/05/52—The ship is alive! It has an energy we can all feel. And I could feel whispers in my mind as we worked. The more of the ship that we dug out, the louder the whispers have become. I keep hearing it at night, a plaintive voice from a dark corner of the room, but when I stop and listen, it is gone. And the dreams…Thousands of ships with a spiky configuration, eight or ten arms apiece, black like this one, absorbing starlight as though into an event horizon. They all scream, making impossible sound in the vacuum of space… As we were digging the ship out, Greta Jones brushed against it with her shoulder. She died within a couple of minutes! The medics said that it was an aneurism, but she was a 24 year old graduate student, and while students are known for burning the candle at both ends…It is my belief that this ship was protecting itself. We're being taken off the project and off the research site, and no one is talking about Greta, despite our persistent questions. Something was alive in there.—Kirkish

Dr. Mary Kirkish, one of the archaeologists on the site. Where was she now? Mohan couldn't find any further data on her whereabouts, so he shut the computer down.

He returned to the clean room and the hood, and resumed studying the artifact, his eyes sliding over the surface. It had been found at the same archaeological site. Was it of the same material? It was 1:04 in the morning and fatigue must have loosened his focus because he found his eyes locked on it, in reverie. Was the pulse a little stronger now? His mind wandered into a half-dream.

Out of the darkness in front of him came a sussuration like dead leaves in a field of graves. He shivered, smelling decay, and then a figure walked before him from out of the darkest myths he had ever learned. With a towering obsidian body, a multitude of watching eyes, hidden mandibles, and many-limbed, a minion of Shiva faced him with inhuman eyes, the chill of which had nothing to do with its lack of membership among Humans. It advanced toward him, and each midnight limb brandished a weapon for the re-shaping of the galaxy. Fleets of the strange spider-like ships shaped like the body of the Minion filled the sky, rending space with the scream of the Destroyer.

His focus snapped back into his control, and sweat poured down his neck. He withdrew from the hood, staggered into decon, snatched off the gear and stood panting, feeling the walls close in. The pulse was definitely stronger now. And it occurred to him, not for the first time, that he might not keep his skin for much longer. He was afraid all the time now, and had been for months. The thought hadn't arrested his self-destructive quest for information, but he had never really allowed himself to stop long enough to think, because to pause too long might paralyze him. Now the import of all this and of where his fate had led him came fully home. In their stumbling around the galaxy in search of energy, commerce, power, they had awakened the most destructive god in history.

The post Havah received at her flat near Heart Attack Alley was a strange one. Just a little figurine of a Hindu god with a couple of numbers written over the price tag. Coordinates and time. She had a feeling it was Mohan. He was Hindu. They had spoken of those sorts of things before. And this was just his style. She hadn't heard from him in a while and now this. The figure he had chosen rose her hackles. It was Shiva, the Destroyer. She was an anthropologist, and he knew it. He knew she would recognize the figure and what it meant in this context. Within their current situations, it could only mean that he was either in trouble, or had discovered something exceedingly unpleasant. The statuette stared at her with lifeless bronze eyes, tiny limbs splayed and rigid.

"Nice place you picked! Very stylish. Are you trying to tell me something?" Havah asked tartly.

Mohan shrugged and blushed fuschia under his dark skin. "Privacy guaranteed."

They met in a sex club, known also for drug trafficking. No one got in without everyone noticing. Which meant that Havah and Mohan were noticed, but anyone seeking to follow them would be too. And shortly after they entered, smiled and politely took handfuls of offered ecstasy, which Havah dumped when the 'waiter' walked away, people returned to their previous activities. Havah took his hand suggestively and led him into a dark room, and shut the door. She scanned the room for bugs, and then put her face against the door, keeping her eye to the peephole. She nodded that it was safe to talk.

He sighed heavily. "IPX has an artifact you might be interested in."

She looked at him expectantly.

"It looks, for the life of me, like organic technology. It has living cells, and some kind of mechanical pulse. I think it may be a transmitter or something."

"And…there's more…"

"Yes. I don't know how to explain it. Hunches are not very scientific. Look, the people who created this are without a doubt light years ahead of us, maybe even ahead of the Minbari. I've never seen anything like it anywhere in the galaxy. But someone else might have, a Dr. Mary Kirkish and a bunch of archaeologists who worked for IPX on Mars. She described a ship found at a nearby site to this artifact. She believed not only that the ship was alive, but that it killed one of the graduate students who touched it. And from the description, it may be made of the same material as this thing."

"So how come you can touch it?"

"I don't know, maybe it's the gloves, maybe it is too small to do what the big ship did. But here's the other piece, the part of this whole thing that really gives me the willies. I was very tired and sort of drifted off while I was studying it, and I dreamed of the creatures that created these ships, and I saw the ships in this…dream, except that it didn't really feel like a dream at all. It felt like…a vision, a two-way vision. It felt like I was being watched, and the things watching me were…not of a friendly disposition…And then, I saw the broadcast last night, the one displaying the spiky ships that the military can not or will not identify. They were the same ones in my dream, the same ones Dr. Kirkish described. I do not know what this means, but I think that it is very very bad. Here, I have the data I collected."

Havah looked at him with a mixture of amazement and dismay. "I think you are right. Thank you! I will see to it that the information gets where it needs to be, and I'll find Dr. Kirkish. In the meantime, we gotta get you out of here. If Earth Gov is hiding something like this, and these things are what I think, then your life here might get hairy. I know people on Babylon 5 who you can stay with-"

Mohan's nerves gave a lurch. Whether he was in danger or not, he'd rather be here with this enigmatic woman, than on Babylon 5, alone with the dream. "_WE_ will find Dr. Kirkish. I'm coming with you."

"No. You're not. Look, the people who want to keep this quiet are going to be looking for you too—"

"I know, but I've gotten away so far, and I can help you find her. We need to find her—"

"What's this 'we', Dr. Deep Throat? This isn't a game! Those ships are real! The things they can do to people are real! You can't come with me!"

"Yes, I can, and I will, or you don't get the data."

"Dammit, Mohan!"

"It's time for you to tell me who you are and what you really are. Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

Havah sighed. "Yes, you have. That's not it. There's no need for you to risk your neck more than you already have. If anything were to happen to you…You would make a good Ranger, you know that?" She sighed again. There was no way around this. He was as persistent as he was bravely stupid. "I am a member of a group called the Anla Shok. You might call them the Minbari version of the Rangers. We have been watching for the ships that you and Dr. Kirkish saw. The Minbari call the race that the ships belong to, the Shadows. A long time ago, a war was fought against these beings, and won…barely. The Anla Shok were formed to build a defense against the time when they returned to try again, and now, it seems they have."

"How long have they been waiting?"

"A thousand years."

Mohan whistled quietly through his teeth, remembering the face of the god. "What was the war about?"

"No one knows. That's another reason we're trying to gather information. Especially after what happened with the Minbari, no one wants to jump into a war without even knowing whether the alien race is hostile." She leaned heavily, against the flimsy door. "But everything we've seen of this race so far, indicates that they are."

"So you were trained by the Minbari military."

"Sort of, yes."

"They want to help protect Earth?"

"Yes, we are allies now."

"But you are working undercover because these Shadows might be in places you don't expect them, right? Like our own government? That's why they keep denying everything, isn't it, and why the Minbari haven't said anything about this at all yet?"

_Sharp cookie_. Havah nodded. "I have seen some evidence of Shadow involvement in government agencies, yes."

Mohan didn't need to be told how insidious this was. The imprint of the ships and the face of the Minion were burned into his memory. "I'm coming with you."

Havah rolled her eyes and turned, beckoning him with an exhausted wave, and opened the door after making sure no one but amorous couples were in sight. "You're just going to follow me anyway, aren't you, and get yourself killed."

"Yes." They slid out the door.

"I know that the Hindustani cultures have castes, right?"

"Yes." He smiled.

"What caste is your family anyway?"

"Kshatriyah."

"Warrior caste, what a surprise."

"So, do you know if Kirkish was affiliated with any university or anything? Did she have any publications?" Havah asked on their way to a local library. There they could tap into the net from an anonymous terminal and look up information.

"She was actually an associate professor at Johns Hopkins in the Archaeology Department."

"She may have gone back there." They tiptoed through the library feeling very exposed, but there was no avoiding it. The terminal linked in and Havah pulled up Johns Hopkins' faculty list. There she was, with contact information, but no address. It was dicey to try and contact the woman by link. That might even put her in more jeopardy.

Havah called her own office, claiming a 'family emergency' and taking off for the next week, hoping her position would still be there when she got back. She left no contact information, considering Morden's 'consultant' status.

They got a shuttle flight on standby in the next two hours, and were in Baltimore by nightfall. They stayed in a youth hostel and paid cash in order to avoid giving any personal information. They were travelers after all. Havah meditated while Mohan slept…and snored like a bandsaw. The next day they went to the Hopkins campus, to the Archaeology Department. A young woman looked up from a terminal.

"Can I help you?"

Havah took the lead. "Hi, yeah, I was just trying to get in touch with Dr. Kirkish. Is she around?"

"She's on vacation. What is this concerning? Maybe someone else can help?"

"Oh, no. I was just an intern on a dig she was on, and I was interested in maybe applying here next year and studying under her. So is there somewhere I can contact her?"

The girl laughed. "I don't know, we've been trying this number and haven't been able to get through. I can leave a note for her in her mailbox. Good luck!"

"Ok, thanks! I'm in town for a little bit, so if she calls in, can you give her my information?" She gave the contact info of the hostel. Her and Mohan wandered up and down the halls, like visiting students, perusing the names on the office doors.

Mohan piped up. "That one, that name. Dr. Morris Leland. He was with IPX too. I remember his name."

"Yeah? Any other names you remember?" They went to the department computer lab and slid the data crystal into the port. There were two other scientists as well, Dr. Liam McMurtaugh, and Dr. Henry Gonzalez. One was from University College Galway, and the other was from UCSF in Frisco. They returned to the office first, to ask the receptionist about Leland. Mohan asked politely, "Do you know when Dr. Leland will be in?"

The girl looked at him in a stupor for a moment. "He's dead…You didn't know, did you?"

Mohan shook his head dumbly.

"I kind of figured. Do you go here?"

"Not yet, no."

"Oh. Well, he had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago. He'd had heart problems for a few years, so it wasn't that surprising. But everybody'll still miss him. He was a really terrific professor. I had him in Forensic Anthro. He took us all to the county coroner's office and let us watch an autopsy. Another time, I had him for Egyptian archaeology, and we got to make beer using a recipe that was uncovered from thousands of years ago!"

"Sounds like a great class! I'm sorry to hear about him!"

They called the other universities from a link near the Rathskellar, the campus deli. It was possible one of them would know more about Dr. Kirkish's whereabouts. Havah prepared her alibi. She called Ireland first. After four transfers to the wrong department, and then one disconnect, she was transferred to Dr. McMurtaugh's teaching assistant, a young man.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, I was just looking for Dr. McMurtaugh."

"May I ask why you're callin?" That was a strange question for a teaching assistant.

"I haven't seen Dr. McMurtaugh in a while, I just wanted to touch base."

"Well…how long ago did you see him?"

"Uh…A long time ago, I don't know, at least five years. I lost track."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. He died two weeks ago. It was a shuttle accident. I'm assisting one of the other professors in teachin' his classes for now. You just caught me off guard."

"Wow! I'm really sorry, I had no idea! How did it happen? If you don't mind my asking."

"No, something went wrong with the shuttle. They 'tink something in the fuel cell went squirrelly. Three other people died."

"Jeez! Well, I'm really sorry to hear that. I'll send my condolences to his family. Thank you very much!"

"Sure. You take care!"

Havah got off the line, and looked at Mohan. "They think something in the fuel cell went squirrelly?"

She turned and called San Francisco. After being on hold for a few minutes, a bronzed blonde answered.

"You wanted Dr. Gonzalez right? Sorry it took me so long. I'm on work-study, and this place is a zoo! He's on sabbatical this semester. He's out at a dig on Ganymede. I can give you his contact information there."

"Thanks!" Havah took the information.

She tried the dig site on Ganymede, and was unable to connect. The coincidences were unnerving.

What now? They had to get in touch with this Dr. Gonzalez on Ganymede, and find Dr. Kirkish. Havah would have to split up tasks, and assign another Ranger to locate one of the two archaeologists. First, she had to find a place for Mohan. Where would he be safe for now? Her flat. No one knew about her yet, and being Nightwatch, no one was likely to inquire just yet.

"Come on." She grabbed him by the arm.

"Are we going to Ganymede?"

"We're going to my flat first. I have a loose end to tie up."

It was a long flight back, even though it only took a few hours. Havah couldn't stop thinking about the archaeologists. It might be too late already. If only she could just take this bozo to Babylon 5, but he wouldn't go, and she couldn't make him, not the whole way anyway. He wouldn't leave her side. They sat in their chamber as he dozed and she stared at his eyelids in consternation. He opened them and looked at her innocently. "So you are part Minbari, aren't you…the blood test?"

"Yeah. My dad."

"Have you met him?"

"Yeah."

"What does he do? Did he fight in the war?"

"Yeah, he did. In fact, he was the executive officer in charge of the assault on the Line."

"Holy cow! How long have you known him?"

"Just since a year and a half ago. That's when I found out for sure about my genetics."

"That must have been difficult."

"It was. The whole thing has been difficult, finding out, meeting him, getting to know him. But he's really trying to make this work, it would seem, and so I should too. Rome wasn't built in a day, I suppose."

"Of course. That's a pretty heavy past to overcome, for both of you."

"If you tell me to be patient, I'm going to stick my foot up your ass. I've heard that from every damn person from here to the Rim, I don't need to hear it again."

He raised his hands in surrender. "No comment…I can tell now, your face is exotic. It's very Minbari in some ways, and very Human in others."

"Exotic…right."

"It is. You are very beautiful."

_Uh oh_. Suddenly, Havah was uncomfortable, partly because of a natural inability to accept compliments, and partly because it was obvious now why he was following her.

He got up and moved to a seat next to her. His fingers stroked the side of her face, and his dark eyes were intense. She withdrew and guided his fingers away from her face firmly, staring into his eyes. "This isn't a good idea. You…you're a really great guy, and if our situations weren't what they are, I'd be all over you. But, this isn't a good idea, not now."

"Later?"

"That's not what I meant. We cannot get involved like this."

"Why not? Is there a regulation that prohibits involvement for…someone in your profession?"

"No. It's just not safe right now. You have information I need, and you are in danger, whether you are willing to accept that or not. It's too complicated."

He sat back, rested his head against the seat and gazed mournfully at her, and then took her hand. She started to blanche, but he didn't let go. "We're not getting involved. Can I just hold your hand?"

She sighed, looked at his big brown eyes, and didn't pull her hand away.

She entered the flat first, to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them, and when he turned to close the door, she whacked him on the base of the skull hard enough to knock him neatly unconscious. He slid in a crumpled heap into her arms, and she hefted him over to the toilet, spread some blankets and pillows down and bound his hands to the sturdy fixture, giving him just enough room to use the facility if necessary, or to lie down. She didn't want to torture him after all, just make sure he stayed put. "Sorry, Mohan." She gave the toilet a quick clean to make sure he didn't wake up to a worse experience than it needed to be, and left to contact other Rangers, disconnecting the door trigger. No one was getting in or out.

The Anla Shok in the area met at Big Johnnie's after receiving a pop-up ad-message with the old jingle 'I feel like chicken tonight, like chicken tonight!' Havah had crafted it to be sent from a web address that couldn't be linked to any terminals at work or her flat, and because pop-up ads were ubiquitous. But this jingle was an old one, recognizable to the receivers as a message to meet at the usual place, unless the ad indicated otherwise. Big Johnnie's, the hot-wing palace was the place Havah had determined for meetings upon coming to Geneva. It was loud, crowded, and full of people of all kinds. It was easy to be background noise here. _It would be so much simpler if I could just shine a bat symbol into the sky_, Havah thought as she waited for the others. Anlashok Lazaro arrived first from the pawn shop, then Monyasa from his accounting firm, and Verscheure from the Geneva shuttle-port security. They got a bucket of hot wings and sat back down, after perusing the joint and finding no suspicious tag-a-longs.

"So, how's the pawn shop, Jay?"

"Not bad. Business has been a little slow, but you know how it is. You thinking of donating something?"

"Nope. Looking for some records actually."

"What kind of records?"

"Your shop still selling identicards?"

"Someone skipping town?"

"I would if I were her. Her name is Dr. Mary Kirkish. She worked for IPX, and at Johns Hopkins. She just went on vacation, and I have a feeling she's not going to come back."

"Hopkins, that's in Baltimore! She'd go to someone in Baltimore, not here. But I know someone who knows someone there."

"That's what I was hoping."

"I'll do what I can."

"Fantastic. Monyasa, I need you to retrieve this man, and take him to Babylon 5." She handed him the information she had gathered on Gonzalez at the Ganymede dig. "He's in trouble, or at least he will be soon."

Monyasa nodded.

She turned to Verscheure. "I need you to take care of someone for me. He's a really stubborn friend. He's in trouble, but he's following me around instead of letting me take him to Babylon 5. I need to follow up on Kirkish, if I can, and he seems to make more rational decisions when I'm not around, so I'm passing him on to you. I'm sorry about that. But he needs to get away from here safely."

Verscheure grinned. "So…babysit your new boyfriend."

"These chicken bones will be very uncomfortable up your nose! And he's not my boyfriend! He wants to be and that's the problem. Get his stubborn ass to Minbari space. He has information we need. You can find him at my flat, this address. The front lock is disabled, and he's tied up in the bathroom."

They all grinned this time, and Havah wadded up a bunch of napkins and threw it at all of them. "Just shut up and do what I tell you!"

Verscheure cleared his voice and said angelically, "Yes, ma'am!"

The others choked back snickers. They cleaned off the table and met outside. Instead of the Minbari salute, they shook hands. "Isil zha veni!" They said quietly, and each went their separate ways.

Mohan was gone when she got back to her apartment. A Ranger pin was left by the sink, like a decorative chochkie. Verscheure had taken him. As for news of Kirkish, Havah had to wait all of a couple hours before the pop-up ad popped up, only to be interrupted by another one. It was a picture of Marilyn Monroe. What the hell was that about? Havah steepled her fingers and peered at the picture. Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn Monroe. What was it about her? _She was born Norma Jean in a small town…Norma Jean! Dr. Kirkish changed her name and got a fake identicard! What is her name changed to? And why did he send the picture instead of waiting to meet? …Because he can't. He thinks it might be too dangerous. He thinks he's being watched. Well, what the hell is her name now?_ _And what if the message wasn't sent by Lazaro? _A chill ran across her neck. She tinkered with the ad. There was an embedded message. "Jona Knox. Isil zha veni" It was from Lazaro, and there was the name. She did an electronic search for ticketed passengers in all surrounding shuttleports in Baltimore, down through Virginia, and up to New York. _If I were Miss Knox, I would want to get the hell out of Dodge as soon as possible, and as far as possible._

No ticketed passengers with the name Jona Knox…yet. Were there any Rangers in Baltimore? No. Of course not. _That would be too easy_, she thought caustically. So the remaining options were to either rush to Baltimore on the hope of finding her there, or to wait until the name turned up in another search, and book a flight for the same destination and hope to meet her there. Havah paced, and gnawed her fingernail, as antsy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She might be ahead of the eight-ball if she could catch Kirkish at a shuttle-port, and not wait to belatedly follow her to whatever destination. Baltimore it was, then. But this was too big and too important to do alone. This woman would need more help than Havah and the Anla Shok here could give her. If she were going to herd this woman to Babylon 5, she was going to need Garibaldi's help with security. And the Anla Shok on Babylon 5 could get her to Minbar.

She flipped through archives of old cartoons, right up Garibaldi's alley, and selected Bugs Bunny's 'Ride of the Valkyrie', after watching Elmer Fudd stomp around after the rabbit, sporting floppy blonde maiden braids. "Saw this again and thought you'd get a kick out of it," was the recorded message. The embedded message read 'Kirkish, Jona Knox.'

Garibaldi pored over the goofy message he had gotten from Havah, a woman who consistently failed to use a com to keep in touch with friends, even when she wasn't on a mission. But it was Looney Tunes, after all. And she was the only one who humored his late-night Daffy Duck-a-thons repeatedly. On the other hand, she detested getting those annoying clips of everything in the galaxy that one person somewhere thought was funny, often talked about what she would like to do to people who clogged her mail with the very kind of thing she was now sending him. The only reason she would send something like this was if it meant something. As he watched, it was obvious. Someone was being pursued. He thought for a minute about how she might store the necessary details. If he wanted to get information out without being seen by the wrong people, he would embed a message between frames. He had done this himself, in the past. Thirty seconds later, he headed for Down Below to find Marcus Cole, a recent addition to the Babylon 5 Anla Shok assignment.

Havah inquired at five major shuttle-lines before an agent found a record of a Jona Knox. Three lines had had no record, and one refused to give her the private information. The fifth, Trans-Galaxy, showed that Miss Knox had just boarded a flight for Centauri Prime, with a connecting flight at Mars Central, which had left the gate ten minutes ago. Looking deflated for more reasons than the courtesy agent could imagine, Havah asked about the next flight connecting at Mars.

"You know, she can be contacted aboard the flight until they reach space. Would you like to call her?"

"No, I'll just call her later. Thanks. Do you have any flights for Mars before tomorrow?"

"Of course, we have a flight…well actually we have a flight leaving in 20 minutes. If security is kind to you, you may be able to make it. Would you like to try?"

"Sure, whatever, what are my odds of making it?"

"Well, I'll call over to the ticketing counter and have them reserve it for you, so that when you go to the counter—"

"You mean, you can't give me the boarding pass here?"

"No, I'm afraid until we get the new machines installed properly, the ticketing is still at a separate counter." She linked in, reserved the spot and closed the screen. "They have your pass, all you have to do is check in there and pay." She pointed to a counter across the atrium, with a dismally long line wending into the hallway.

_Ten yards away and she can't take my identicard here? Brilliant technology! _The line appeared to be moving fast. But the urgency and the annoyance singular to long shuttle-port lines, bawling children, and impatient people's luggage nipping her heels, had Havah disheveled and more out-of-breath by the time she reached the counter than any of the exercises performed in the course of her Ranger training. The price of the pass would have choked her, if she hadn't had Grey Council money. She grabbed the pass and ran for the security gates, only to pace slowly forward in another long line, fidget while the man in front of her emptied his pockets... A minute and counting, she pounded down the concourse and into the gate just before the shuttle closed. The shuttle took them to the larger cruiser docked in orbit, and it was a few-hour flight from there. These things were like shuffling beetles, she thought as she stared at the wall, willing it to pick up speed. Kirkish's shuttle was even slower getting into dock, and banking on the delay, Havah stepped carefully through the transport tube, headed for the shuttle to Centauri Prime, looking for the delicate-faced blonde.

Kirkish tried to make herself as insignificant as possible in a corner of the tube, sandwiching herself between two businessmen. If anyone tried to get at her, these men would notice. Unfortunately, she chose unwisely. As the tube pulled into the station, the man to her right slipped a needle into her neck.

Havah saw Kirkish's nervous eyes, and a glint of metal, a second before the syringe would have unloaded its dose. He had been fast, but about four feet away, Havah drew her denn bok and released the catch, sending one end shooting into his throat. He dropped the syringe, gasping, and Kirkish bolted and ran for the door at the other end. Another man stepped in front of Kirkish, grabbing her by the hair and wrestling her towards the door. The bystander effect was in full-swing as a couple of people just stood dumbly and watched. Havah cross-stepped back and thrust the pike into the base of the goon's skull. He dropped. Too easy. These thugs were clumsy, disorganized, and obvious, she thought, as the first man, still clutching his throat, drew a gun, while Havah turned to go after Kirkish. She had put away her pike, so she turned back around and grabbed either side of his shirt from behind a pole as he rushed her, and pulled him into the pole face-first. After he fell, she planted a foot in his groin for good measure, and then ran to catch up with Kirkish, who had escaped through the next car already, as the train had started moving. Havah finally caught up to her in the crowd, at the next station.

"I'm not after you!"

"How do I know that?" Kirkish's eyes were wild.

"Because if I were, you'd already be dead."

Her eyes widened, and she stood for a moment, considering.

Havah brushed past, grabbing her hand, "Come on, there's no time. I don't know who those dorks were, but there will probably be more of them soon."

Kirkish allowed herself to be pulled until Havah turned into the docks for freighters, and then she jerked her hand away, casting frightened glances at the gloom.

Havah shook her head. "They will follow you easily to Centauri Prime, and the Centauri don't care. They have their own agendas. There are people who can help on Babylon 5. They can get you to Minbar. You'll be safe there, but your luxury ride is up. You're going to have to go as cargo. Those men found you even when you used your new identicard, didn't they? And they were morons. Not everyone following you will be."

Kirkish stared cagily and then a look of fatigue washed over her.

"Come on, you can sleep on the freighter. I know you've been through a lot, and I don't have any way of convincing you. Please trust me." Havah's voice gentled. This woman was exhausted, and nothing in academe would have prepared her for the path she was on now. She was about to walk away from everything in her life that was familiar, and everything that had seemed safe and normal no longer was. Havah held out her hand and Kirkish followed her as they slipped into the cargo bay. There were large heavy crates, labeled 'Balvenie Doublewood', 'Glenross', and 'Ketel One'.

_Oh good, booze. I'm in an ocean, and not a drop to drink._ Havah thought. She cast about until finding an empty crate the same size as the others, and then peeled off a label for Glenross and slapped it onto the empty crate. If any liquor had to get left behind, it might as well be the one her college friends called 'brain-melting Martian moonshine'. The empty crate was just large enough for two small adults, and Havah climbed in and beckoned Kirkish to join her. It would be an uncomfortable ride until they hit open space and could climb out for a spell.

They held their breath as they felt the crate hefted, and then the shifting of the box until they were set down again. And then…nothing…and more nothing, except the hum of the ship engines.

After a long period of cramped sweaty airless silence, Kirkish whispered "Who are you?"

Havah waited a few moments, to listen around them for any sign that they'd been heard. "My name is Havah. I guess you would call me a Ranger. We're called Anla Shok in the Minbari language. It's a Minbari organization…I've been looking for you. I know what you saw."

Kirkish held her breath and then inhaled shakily. "What is it?"

"A Shadow ship. The Shadows are an ancient race that was driven into hiding a thousand years ago, out at the Rim. Both the Minbari and the Vorlons fought them then, and have been waiting for them to make a re-appearance."

"Why?"

"Well, they seemed to be very destructive the last time they appeared. And there have been indications that they mean to resume their old attacks."

"For what reason?"

"…We don't know."

"When we were taken off the dig, no one would talk to us. Is our government involved with them? Why were we taken off? Why am I being hunted?"

Havah gazed into the darkness where Kirkish's voice had been. "I wish I had an answer for you. I think the government may be involved, but I cannot offer you any conclusions." Havah wanted to spill her guts to this frustrated woman and give her all the information that she had earned, but information was dangerous until they reached safe ground.

They lay in silence for a while longer. Then, when it felt like all of the oxygen was gone, Havah lifted the lid and peeped out. There was no one around.

A dark unmarked cruiser left Earth orbit. It entered the jump point off Io and headed for the Epsilon sector. The freighter was not far ahead.

They were almost there, almost to Babylon 5. The freighter floated near Epsilon Three awaiting permission to dock. Crates including the one inhabited by Havah and Kirkish had been loaded onto a smaller shuttle for transport, but waited to be discharged from the larger ship until clearance was given to dock at the station. The queue was a bit long, since there had been a backup at a few of the docking bays, and while they waited their turn, the captain was hailed by Psi Corps. He looked through the screen distastefully, at an austere man with a black baldric. A Psi cop.

"None of us are teeps, whaddya want?"

"None of you may be, but we have reason to believe that there are stowaways aboard who are."

"So?"

"So we have the authority to search for rogue telepaths, anywhere we need to. You wouldn't be harboring them now, would you?"

"You're a telepath! Why do you bother asking me, why don't you just read my mind?"

"If you wish, but it will be much easier for you and your crew to just let us retrieve our runaways and be on our way. Then you will be well rid of us." His smile was mirthless.

The captain shivered. "Yeah, whatever. Be quick about it." Access was granted, and a black-booted team strode into the docking bay. Havah felt footfalls. Heavy ones, regimented ones. They'd been found. Kirkish had to make it to Babylon 5, but if they waited here, they were caught. She motioned to Kirkish to stay still, and slipped out of the crate and off the shuttle before the footsteps could come into view. She crept up against another crate and came into full view of six uniformed Psi cops. These were not the crude brutish thugs that had ambushed Kirkish on Mars. This was a Blood Hound unit. _Jesus, they're sending Blood Hounds after normals!_ Despite her training, and her history, her heart began to pound.

_Get out of his line of sight_, she thought, as the closest man turned toward her and she could feel the vise close around her temples. She ducked back behind the crate and drew her denn bok. This was it. The only hope Kirkish had, was the biggest distraction Havah could make, because if they were allowed to search, they would find the archaeologist. And if they cracked into Havah's mind, they would strike the jackpot.

_Last as long as you can, last as long as you can. I have poison, I just have to last long enough to draw them away._ Sweat poured down her shirt, and her hands trembled. The unit said nothing as they fanned out, surrounding her, as she weaved in and out of stacks of crates, avoiding line of sight. One came around a corner and ducked as she thrust the pike, seeing her move in her mind a second before she executed. Another cop came behind her. She stood no chance against them, as they ducked every blow she threw, knowing it was going to be thrown. They encircled her like a troop of baboons narrowing in on a monkey. Havah's knees shook and she panted with futile exertion. She summoned the strongest emotions she could dredge up from her consciousness, every flush of embarrassment, every dull wash of anger she had ever felt, from the time she had been pelted with mud in the first grade, to the first time she kissed a boy, and flooded her body and mind with it, allowing them full access to the biggest storm of emotion she could blast at them. But they would not be distracted. Blazing pain ripped through every nerve in her body and she screamed and writhed on the floor as they sliced into her mind. _NOOOOO!_ And then, a part of her stepped away. Just like that. She remembered. At the Anla Shok training compound, an ancient withered Minbari appeared one day, a couple months before she left for Earth. The instructors, even Master Durhan, were reverent in their attitude towards this mysterious man. He had given his name only as Kulan. He was here to teach for a little while, and only those who were ready to learn. His lessons were in the art of fala shen. He was a master in this art, hidden in the same way as the mountain forests of China had hidden the art of Li fu dao, the Way of the Sixth Sense, passed on deep within the high walls of stone temples by invisible masters with dragons burned into their forearms. Telepaths were born. These masters had been Made, by years of slow patient training. The Anla Shok trainees had no time for such slow training, but the Way had begun. And over the next two months, until Havah left for Earth, the trainees began learning to shield their minds, and sense the weight of a fruit fly lighting on a berry in a tree beyond their sight. Such abbreviated training was no match for the Blood Hounds, but for a minute, they hit walls in Havah's mind that seemed to melt away against resistance, only to lead them down a psychotic path, and then in circles. And then they broke her, leaving her mind submerged under waves of skittering spiders and beetles, burrowing into her eyes, ears, nose, throat, paralyzing her alive while the beetles gnawed into her flesh, sinew, cracking open her bones to feed on the marrow. Loss of consciousness, when it finally came, was a blessing.

Before the unit could board the shuttle with the hiding scientist, the captain launched it as soon as Commander Ivanova cleared a dock, stating that she had no knowledge of any Psi Corps activity, and could care less what they were authorized to do. He wasn't going to argue with her. If the 'runaways' were on that boat, well that was too damn bad! The teeps could deal with the Commander if they wanted to get them back.

Number One fixed the recalcitrant captain with a chilling stare, but let his mind alone. It was too late. The Bureau would have to be notified. It was too much of a risk to send another operative to the station. Not only was station security a problem, but IPX had people in place aboard. They would reach the fugitive first. In the meantime, the Bureau had this one. The female rebel writhed insensate between two of his operatives, and then sagged. They hefted her and headed back to base.

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Created on 05/05/2005 08:45:00


	20. Chapter 20

This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 20—Bureau Thirteen

Particulates clogged the air, blowing in dust-devils around the walls of a concrete bunker in the heart of the San Diego wasteland, as a small dark woman screamed and screamed in a tiny cell. Her hands, arms, and face were bloody, where she'd been scratching at the invisible insects, and raking the rough walls with broken nails and raw fingertips. She called prayers to a Semitic deity in Hebrew, English, and a dialect of Minbari no one had ever heard in this millennium. In the file room, Agent Li easily blocked the waves of anguish engorging the entire complex from the little cell. _The Corps is Mother. The Corps is Father._ _The Corps knows what is best._

He looked at his superior, waiting for instructions. _But this woman is a normal, she isn't Corps._ The thought slid in, making his eye twitch slightly. _All the more reason why she must be dealt with. The Corps is what matters._

"Is there something wrong, Agent?" The sharp eyes of his superior officer scanned his face.

"No, sir."

Another man entered and whispered to the officer. His protuberant eyes widened, and an unpleasant smirk lifted the corner of his lip slightly. He nodded curtly, and the other man left. "It appears that our prisoner may be of more value than we knew. She'll be a useful shell, yes, but we may be able to get some more interesting information from her before death. She was one of the pilots captured by the Minbari during the War, on the Line. And apparently, she herself is half-Minbari. Samples of her tissue will be extremely enlightening. It's time for her to be transported to Agent Sedgwick for reconstruction. The process itself may prove to be a motivator. It is so much easier to get information from subjects when they are properly influenced. It is draining to have to wade in through anger and resistance." He left, followed by Agent Li, trying to still the tic in his eyelid.

Havah was blinded by bright light, blaring into her eyes, turning the corners of her vision red with swimming spots. Beyond the light, a cold passionless voice described her sentence.

"What do you know about Mary Kirkish? What do you know about Mohan Satmahari?"

Havah just stared at the light. And a slow pressure started to build on her brain and heart. Something was squeezing it, or was she imagining that? A spider sunk its chelicerae into her cheek and she was unable to move to brush it away as the venom pumped in. She screamed, the only muscles left under her control. She used every last bit of control to imagine the motions of Yang Style Tai Chi, focusing on every move, concentrating on tai chi push-hand sparring, making her thoughts move like the form, melting away from scans she was not sensitive enough to feel, eluding.

The whir of a bone saw interrupted her concentration. "We will get the information from you as you die. Your body will be restructured and programmed to our needs."

She felt the skin and muscle of her left wrist being drawn back after the scalpel slipped through. Her vocal pipes were shredded and hoarse with screaming. _Then you will never get it!_ She vowed, and redoubled her focus on mental evasion, trying to ignore the vibrations of the saw melting into her ulna. _The Shadows surrounded her and Kuraal. 'Run' she cried, but the child wouldn't move. Blood from her wrist pumped into the dust. 'RUN, CHILD!'_

"We have something! Did you see that? Who is Kuraal?" Li's superior officer grimaced triumphantly.

Li had seen it. But the twitch in his face was getting worse. _The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father! Nothing matters but the Corps! Nothing matters but the Corps!…It does matter. This matters!_ Something that had been building for months broke in his mind. The twitch was shuddering through his face, as his superior officer concentrated on ravaging the prisoner's death thoughts, and shutting down her organ functions. He looked at his commanding officer, and at the woman agent, the dead face directing the surgeon with the bionics, and decided that there was no way back to Project Lazarus.

Two of the occupants of the room were psi-cops, and while he was a strong P13, visual illusions would not work against both of them. He ambushed all three of the telepaths in the room with a brief flash of light, drew his side-arm and shot his superior officer, the woman director, and the P5 surgeon in succession as they recovered from the flash. They fell and lay still, heads fatally burned. The subject wriggled and flopped on the table, like an earthworm after a rainstorm. He tried to talk to her, but she was shrieking and fighting any hand he tried to put near her, and so he shut her consciousness down, but left her alive. He cuffed her partly severed wrist to keep her from losing too much blood, heaved her body into a body bag, leaving a small space open for her shallow breaths, repositioned her on the table and wheeled her out. The lock from the outside of the room gave him time to get away before the bodies were found. These procedures always took time. He kept his mind shielded as he rolled her down the hall. The tic had ceased, and the couple of technicians he passed did not spare him a second glance. He headed for the waste-processing unit. Bodies occasionally came in which were not reconstructable for Project purposes, and had to be disposed of. Her body slid into the chute and he over-rode the controls and shut down the auto-incineration, timed to go on every three days. He brought a shuttle around to the back disposal hatch and climbed in. The unit smelled like rancid meat and ash. And the only animals that were left to feed in the badlands were roaches. During the three days before each burn, they found their way in from the outside, although not into the facility. He choked on the dust of their droppings and ash, as he climbed up the pile to reach the newest lump. He dragged her out and into the flyer, and took off towards Death Valley, unzipping her bag as he piloted.

Neroon jolted upright on his pallet and almost toppled onto the floor. Something was wrong. His skin was freezing and the fine hairs at the base of his headbone were standing on end. He could not shake the harrowing scream he had just heard in his dream. It was his daughter's voice. There would be no more sleep tonight. He dressed in his uniform and made a beeline for Sinclair's office. Upon finding no one there, he went to Sinclair's quarters and roused the baffled Human from his horrible flat bed.

Before the Human could speak, Neroon interjected. "Where is my daughter? Where is Anlashok Lassee?"

"She's on a mission, Alyt, you know that. Is there something I can help you with now? What…?"

"I must speak with her. I must know where she is."

"I'm afraid that's not possible right now. She contacted Garibaldi a few days ago, and she's not anywhere that we can reach her. She'll have to contact us, when she's ready."

"Unacceptable! How can you lose track of one of your officers? Why is there no means for contacting her?"

"I haven't lost track of her, Alyt," His voice had an edge. It was one thing to deal with Neroon's cantankerous demands during the day, but this was pushing the envelope. "It is the nature of her mission that she may be out of contact for periods of time. I trust her."

"I do not care if you trust her!"

"What is going on, Alyt? What is behind this sudden need to speak with her. I thought that you had worked out those details with her before she left?"

Neroon turned his back on the harried commander. He said nothing.

"Is something wrong? Did you hear from her?"

He paused, not wanting to involve this man in business concerning family, but he supposed that the commander was involved already. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. I have reason to believe that she is…in mortal danger. You have no idea of her whereabouts?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't. I hope that you are wrong, but I will look into it and do everything I can."

Neroon left before the commander could say anything more.

Sinclair stared after him, worry furrowing his brow. There was no more sleep for him either.

When Neroon returned to his quarters, his aide was leaning on the door, sensing that something was unusual. "Prepare my ship. Stock it with rations for three weeks, and be ready to leave in two hours."

"Alyt?"

"Do as I say!"

"Yes, Na! It will be ready." He left.

Li stopped once at a Good Will to pick up clothes that he didn't have to use a credit chit to get, and discard his uniform before going into hostile territory. Jurgen was where Li expected to find him, in a tavern in Nederland, Colorado. The man who he had been about to expose and capture, along with an entire branch of a rogue network, was now the one man who could help him. Jurgen was drunk, wearing plastic Viking horns in celebration of the approaching holiday, Frozen Dead Guy Day, and singing 'Whiskey in a Jar' along with a bawdy cluster of normals, reeking of marijuana. Ever since marijuana had been legalized in 2147, the whole town smelled like the aromatic leaf every spring, when the crops grew, and every holiday, when people ate it in communal cakes and other pastries. It was difficult to walk into a bakery at Christmas in that town without feeling at-ease with good will towards men. Li was banking on that good will now.

"Li! What brings you here to the back-end of the mountains? Here to celebrate?" Even through the haze of Tullamore, Jurgen's eyes were sharp.

"Celebrate?"

"Frozen Dead Guy Day! You won the Bride-of-Grandpa contest last year! Or were you too hammered to remember?"

"No, I remember." He winced at the things he had been willing to do to win this ruddy man's confidence. "I was stone sober, unfortunately."

"Well, we can fix that now, you know." He slung his arm across Li's shoulders.

Li held up his hand, and at his solemn look, Jurgen withdrew his arm and the smile faded. "What's up?" He moved in closer, to hear whatever Li had to say.

"I need your help…I have a girl. She's in bad shape, and the Blood Hounds will be after her again soon."

"Re-education camps?"

"No. Worse."

Jurgen's copper brows lifted. "Where is she now?"

"In my flyer."

He nodded, turned to his chums, drained the last beer from his horn and theatrically bid them adieu, to a rousing collective groan. He turned back to Li, and beckoned him through the back of the pub. "Bring her in through the back here."

Li pulled the still unconscious woman from the bag and shook her. She opened dull eyes that instantly clouded with fear, pupils contracting. She started to struggle.

"No." He told her. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe. For now."

She glanced skeptically at him, and then appeared to decide on believing him, for now. "Why?" She asked him, recognizing his face from the room in which she had been tortured.

He didn't know what to say, didn't even have the answer himself. How could he explain what had happened? "They want information. They—"

"No. Why did you help me?"

"I don't know…" He didn't. "'Amazing Grace,'" was all he could say.

She looked at him quizzically. He pulled her arm up across his shoulder as she staggered. He steadied her, and painfully, she tottered towards the back door, and down the paneled stair. "Who were they? Who are you?"

"Not here."

She put her head down and fell onto the basement couch near the kegs.

Jurgen brought her a glass of water, and looked at the cuff on her wrist. As Li turned, Jurgen grabbed him by the back of his shirt and shoved his face up against the wall, pistol muzzle to the back of his head. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't barbecue your head, cop!"

Li felt the characteristic pressure at his temples, in addition to the gun. Jurgen was strong, very strong, almost as strong as Li. "Because I'm not a cop anymore." Honesty was all he had left. "Go ahead. Scan me." He grimaced as Jurgen did as Li had suggested. The hand released him and he turned around.

Jurgen studied him. "It's real then. The Bureau, the Lazarus Project."

"Yes."

Jurgen jerked his chin at Havah. "What about her? Who is she?"

"A normal. They wanted her because she knows about the ship IPX found. They've another one on Ganymede, and they want it kept quiet. They also want to know more about the Minbari. The Minbari are too dangerous to anger openly, so they want to collect data on them more quietly. She's half Minbari, and she was captured by them on the Line. Everyone wants to know what really happened. They know she knows other things about them too, and about the creators of those ships. The Corps is working with them, has been for years, but we still don't know anything about them."

"And what does she know?"

"We never found out. She's seen them before."

Jurgen looked thoughtful and still distrustful, but he glanced at Havah, at her head lolling off the side of the couch. He had a weakness for small exotic women, and she had done nothing to deserve this. "I'll get her out. She needs a doctor though. We'll do what we can here."

Li nodded his head in gratitude. A blonde woman came in and began tending Havah's wrist and trying to rouse her to drink some water. Li was led to accommodations and watched by a couple of young men.

"If he tries to run, kill him. If he tries to contact anyone, kill him." Jurgen shot him a look.

They moved on finding a route of escape immediately. The following day was Frozen Dead Guy Day, a holiday founded to celebrate the resurrecting of the first local cryonic institute for the average Joe, and its first real client, Grandpa Bredo Morstoel in 1989. The whole affair had begun when his son Trygvie, who had been keeping Grandpa dutifully frozen in his Tuff Shed, angered INS and was deported, leaving his widowed mother to look after the body. In a fit of worry, she mentioned the difficulty of looking after 'the bodies in the shed' (Grandpa now shared accommodations with his deceased roommate), in a media interview. After the largest media ruckus the tiny town had seen since the Gold Rush finally died down, assistance was offered by a leading technology firm. And Grandpa was celebrated evermore. His day was replete with theatre, costume contests, snow-sculpting contests, pub crawls, and of course…coffin races complete with an obstacle course. Costumes were encouraged. Jurgen and a couple of friends prepared their costumes, and finished attaching Havah's wig and full grizzled beard. Her wrist was unusable, and she still swayed, but that appeared to be a common problem among the largely intoxicated crowds. The stretch of obstacle course between the start, in front of the Rough Rider Saloon, and the point in the woods where a contact would be waiting, was a mile through heavy snow, the last of the season. She would have to push through until then. Li was dressed, once again, as the Bride of Grandpa, and took the right front of the coffin, flanked by Jurgen in back. _Keep your friends close…_They scanned the crowds. Li spotted a couple of men, ill-fitted to the rest of the festivities. "Over there. Blood Hounds. I recognize those men, we have files on them."

"How did they find us so quickly? Her?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have a leak you don't know about."

But they didn't appear to sense the fugitives yet. The race began and Havah half-stumbled, half-ran with her good hand on a handle, braced by the telepath behind her who was dressed as a hillbilly with fake 'Billy-Bob' teeth. They maneuvered the coffin through a pub, up a hill, slogged through a narrow, and a deep snow-drift, to the cheers of the waiting crowds. Havah's wrist was throbbing and clear fluid had seeped through the bandage. Her vision blurred, but, feeling a strong telepathic energy boost from the telepath behind who was watching her, she kept moving. They neared the section of the woods too thick for people to gather to watch the race, and the contact led her away through the ravine to a flyer on the other side.

Jurgen and the others returned to the race and ran on to the finish. But as the crowd was dispersing, the Blood Hounds had found them. Men in black slipped through the crowd towards them as they tried to back through the street. The second of two astounding moments of clarity bloomed in Li's mind. _This is it. There are two of us, against six of them. Jurgen is the head of the resistance cell. He knows where the half-Minbari has gone. I do not. If he dies, the resistance here may fall, and the normal will be found. He must escape, and he cannot fight them. The only option for him is to run. The only option for me is to delay them._ _But they know now that I'm a rogue. What is this worth to me?_ He had to make them believe for at least a moment that he was turning himself in. And Jurgen had to believe it too. He held his hands up and got down on the ground, and broadcast the thought that the resistance was here and that he was turning himself in to the Corps with the intention of revealing everything. He could feel Jurgen's rage and contempt as the resistance leader fled. Li caught the Blood Hounds about to give chase and fed them vivid information about the basement of the pub, the now-empty headquarters, knowing they would distract themselves with a fruitless raid, knowing that Jurgen would not go there. Jurgen had already disappeared.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…_The melody of the ex-slaver's song tinkled in his head as he punched the cop trying to put cuffs on him, grabbed the man's sidearm, and shot a blast through his own temple, before they could break into his mind.

As Neroon was about to leave, a dainty blonde woman with huge eyes approached him, and introduced herself as Mary. He waited impatiently for her to speak.

"I just heard that you were looking for information on the woman named Havah. I saw her. It's because of her, her and Marcus and Sheridan and your Delenn that I'm here.—"

"Just because Delenn is Minbari does not make her mine."

"Yes, well, sorry. I mean…the point is, I know where Havah was, although I don't know where she is now. She was with me on the freighter to Babylon 5. She found me on Mars, when I was attacked. I think it was men from IPX who attacked me. And then we were attacked again on the freighter just before it docked at the station. It was called Kendall's Ox, I think that was the name of the freighter. But the men who attacked us there weren't from IPX. They were Psi Corps. I think they may have gotten her. She didn't come back to the shuttle, and she never showed up on the station."

"Psi Corps. Isn't that the Human telepath guild?"

"It's not a guild, but yes. They control all Human telepaths. At least they try to."

"Why were they after you? What do they want with Anlashok Lassee?"

"They wanted to make sure I didn't give any information to anyone about the ships I saw, or about the ship they have on Ganymede. And Havah was with me. She had information about them too."

"What ships?"

"Delenn called them Shadows."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh. THAT. And why does your Psi Corps have an interest in the Shadows?"

"I don't know. I think they might be working together."

"You don't know. You think they might be working together." The sarcasm dripped from his voice. "Well, and the conspiracy grows. How convenient."

Kirkish didn't understand why this soldier seemed so exasperated by her mention of the Shadows, but she supposed she had to expect not to be believed sooner or later. Cassandra was ignored after the hundred-thousandth time she spoke about the fall of Troy.

He resumed. "And you know nothing of Anlashok Lassee's whereabouts now?"

"Anlashok…oh, Havah? No. If it was Psi Corps who took her, they may have taken her to headquarters, or to one of their bases. Except that she's a normal. They have a habit of losing track of the normals they apprehend."

"Losing track. I see. Where are their headquarters? Where are their bases?"

"All of them? I don't know. There are a lot. I can tell you some of the more mundane ones."

This did him very little good, since it was likely to be one of the hidden ones she would be taken to if she were indeed captured. "And how might I learn of the others?"

"Babylon 5 has a commercial telepath who might be able to tell you, although I don't know if she will be willing. She's with Psi Corps."

"How many were chasing you?"

"I don't know, I never saw them. They don't usually go after normals. When they go after telepaths, they usually send a couple of Psi-Cops. Psi-Cops are strong. I don't know how strong though. If they are after someone dangerous, they might send a Blood Hound Unit. I saw them hunt someone down once." She shuddered.

"This Blood Hound Unit, is it composed of Humans?"

"That depends on your perspective. But technically, yes. There were six of them that I saw after this runaway a few years ago."

"Are they trained in physical combat as well?"

"It looked that way."

"I will deal with this." He nodded to her cursorily. "Thank you for your information." He turned on his heel began to leave.

Kirkish interrupted. "How do you know…Anlashok Lassee?"

"That is not your concern."

He ignored her, and headed for the central office of the Telepath's Guild.

The first person he sought was the warrior caste member of the Telepath Master Council. The man took one look at him and didn't have to be a telepath to know that the Satai was here about grave business.

"I need eight of the strongest telepaths that you have trained."

"Yes, Satai. What do you need them for? You see, they all have different skills, and it would help to know their purpose so that they can be selected appropriately."

"What do you know about the Human Psi Corps organization?"

The telepath's expression darkened. "Not a great deal. Only what we have learned from our…exchange student, Alyssa Beldon. She had not had a great deal of exposure to them either, but some of the information she related to us from Commander Ivanova of Babylon 5 was extremely disturbing. I will let you speak with her yourself, since she is more familiar with Earth, and Earth laws. This matter concerns them?"

"It may. The Human Delenn sent here recently to 'escape capture' on Babylon 5 believed that individuals from this organization were chasing her and one other."

"One other?" Here was the crux of the request for aid. Master Lohann blocked out the thoughts from other minds, but such a wave of trepidation exuded from Satai Neroon at the mention of this 'other', that it was difficult to ignore.

"Anlashok Lassee. It is possible that she has been captured and held by this Psi Corps."

"Ah." Neroon's daughter. It was not widespread knowledge yet, but Lohann was warrior caste, and close with the Star Riders. They all knew, and so did most of his own clan. "Have you any other information on the Psi Corps, on where they might have taken her?"

"Not reliable information, no. It was suggested that I speak with the 'commercial telepath' on Babylon 5. But since she works for Psi Corps, I cannot consider her to be a reliable source. She is likely to have their interests in mind. Although I will see what she has to say. I was told that the persons who apprehended Anlashok Lassee may be telepathically strong and trained in combat. There are often six such individuals, according to the Human, Mary Kirkish."

Lohann inclined his head. "I will select accordingly and send my people to you as soon as you are ready."

Neroon saluted and waited to speak with the student Alyssa Beldon, and it was recommended that she be the one to speak with Talia Winters, the commercial telepath, since the woman had shown a fondness for Alyssa, and was Human herself. Alyssa had promised to keep in touch with Ms. Winters, and promised to share knowledge of the telepathy and practices of other races, so such a request for an information exchange concerning the practices and location of various Psi Corps installations may not seem out of the ordinary. Alyssa was also a stronger telepath than Ms. Winters and could block any stray scans with ease. Alyssa was counseled on what to ask, and Neroon waited silently at his quarters while Alyssa contacted Ms. Winters.

After a few hours, the diminuitive teenager poked her head in the door. "Um, I talked to her, and so Master Lohann told me to tell you what she said."

"Yes, go on." He stood, and she subconsciously took a step back. It was hard to keep out the anger that radiated from this man.

"Well, um, she couldn't tell me where some of the bases were…until, um…until I told her why I was asking. I swear I didn't say much, just that I thought that they might be…might be trying to kill someone who hadn't done anything wrong, a normal person. She kind of got really upset, I could tell, and then she told me that there is a base on Mars, near Syria Planum, that no one knows about. She also said that Dr. Franklin knows a lot of rogue telepaths, and they might know more about where Psi Corps took that Ranger, or how to find her. So, I called him. And he said that he would find his contact and see if he knows anything."

"When?"

"I don't know. Soon, as soon as he talks to this guy."

Neroon's fingers clenched on the edge of his desk. If he heard the phrase, 'I don't know', one more time…"Notify me as soon as you hear from him. In fact, I would like to speak with this contact."

"I will. I'll tell Dr. Franklin."

"Thank you, Ms. Beldon." He dismissed her.

Dr. Franklin responded within a few more hours, with information from his contact. The window during which they could exchange information was too narrow for Neroon to have an opportunity to speak with the contact himself. But the news was good. She was alive, and had escaped the Psi Corps via the underground railroad. She was being brought by a couple of telepaths to a doctor at the Drazi outpost Belosi Ten, for treatment, before making the jump to Babylon 5, and then Minbari space. Felshenn had prepared the Ingata and crew, and seen to quarters for eight members of the Telepath's Guild. He had barely spoken since they boarded. The two of them, he and Havah, had experienced something of a personality clash before, but Felshenn's mood was thoughtful.

When Neroon and Felshenn arrived at the doctor's small office, a stooped Human with large muddy eyes looked up at him in fleeting surprise, and then realization dawned on his face and he ushered Neroon and Felshenn into an inner room. The telepaths remained in the anteroom. The two Minbaris' breath hitched slightly, adjusting to the smell of sick flesh, barely masked by the odor of disinfectant. Havah lay in a bed with monitors surrounding her. She was barely conscious, and her face was peaked with dark hollows under the eyes. Sweat poured down her neck and she was shivering uncontrollably. The monitor read her temperature at 104 degrees. Considering her normal core temperature was a degree or two lower than most Humans, as a hybrid, the fever was dangerously high. Her wrist was bandaged, dark red streaks running out from under the bandage.

"The wound is septic. She has developed a systemic staph infection, and osteomyelitis. I am treating her with the most powerful antibiotics available."

"Will she survive?"

"It is too early to tell."

"And her arm? Can it be saved?"

The doctor looked at the large warrior with apprehension. "I'll know within a day if the antibiotics are having enough of an effect. When she came to me, the infection was already advanced. If she does not show improvement soon…"

"Can she be moved?"

"I would not advise it. I will let you know." He left.

Felshenn went into the anteroom with the telepaths.

Havah moaned and lay still.

"Daughter."

She didn't reply.

He moved closer, and spoke a little louder. "Daughter."

No answer.

He reached out a hand and touched her stringy hair. She didn't move again. He exhaled slowly. "I will bring you to Minbar for training, after you recover, of course. This can no longer wait. This would not have happened if you had received proper training as a Star Rider. Delenn and her Shadows will have to function without one of her minions until I have decided that you are ready to return. In the mean time, I order you to focus on healing. I have no wish to lose my child so soon after losing her mother. I could not prevent that. I can prevent this." _I have seen Human suffering before, and smelled Human mortality in all manners, and yet this is worse. She looks like her mother. The infection is bad, and the doctor is doing everything possible already. And if she lives, I do not think she will be whole when she wakes up. Parents are not supposed to survive their children._ The anger was building again, and he left the room that had become stifling. But he sat, in the anteroom, not leaving for food, drink, or rest for the remainder of the night. Her fever went up another degree around nightfall. Neroon paced, sat, and stood by the door, arms crossed, refusing to speak in more than monosyllabic answers.

Felshenn slipped into the room, dark save for the blinking instruments. It was silent. His heart quickened and he pulled off his glove and held his hand above her mouth. Her breath barely touched it with warmth. But it was still there. He stared at her marbled eyelids, and realized that the thought of her death gave him no pleasure, as often as he had wished for it in the past. _We tried for three years during the War to kill you, Human! Who are you to change your mind now!_ He sat, staring at her face for another hour or two. Her breathing was labored now and she was gasping out words, a jumble of delirium-induced hallucinations. But a couple words caught his ear. They were Minbari words. She was muttering in Minbari, and he realized quickly that her monologue held descriptions of features of Z'hadum. Features that she had seen, like a maze that she visited every night. He had heard the rumors fostered by the Religious Caste and the old Grey Council, but had dismissed it as over-zealous political rubbish. But regardless of who believed what, she was describing the legendary home of the Shadows in a language that she could not have known. His mind spun as he watched her.

The doctor entered, moving quietly around Felshenn. He fixed the settings on a laser lister. He was going to take the arm, just above the elbow. Felshenn's stomach turned. For all his years in the service, he still twinged at the thought of amputation. He fled into the anteroom. The doctor placed a mask over her face, to make certain she stayed unconscious.

Felshenn entered again, just before the doctor began. "Is there no other way? Can you wait no longer?"

The doctor paused to answer. "The antibiotics have not halted the infection. It is almost certain that the tissue will necrotize, it has begun already, so she will lose the arm anyway, and if I wait much longer, the septicemia will kill her."

"But she is half-Minbari. Our immune systems are different than Humans. Have you ever treated a Minbari before?"

"No, but septicemia is fatal for all known races. Do you understand?"

He nodded, but persisted. "Can you give her one more hour, or one half-hour to see if her fever breaks?"

The doctor shook his head wearily, but shut down the laser. "I will debride the wound again, and see if that helps. If the fever breaks in a half an hour, we will see. If not, or if there is any change for the worse, I will have to take the arm." He waved the young man back out, so that he could finish the procedure.

Within a half-hour, the fever broke and decreased slowly. Felshenn heaved a secret sigh of relief and was peering at her sweaty face, when a Human runner burst into the anteroom. Neroon was on his feet instantly.

The man gasped between breaths. "They're here! The Blood Hounds! They know about us, we have to clear out."

"No." Neroon stood, immobile.

"You don't understand! These are Blood Hound units. Do you have any idea what they can do?"

"Yes. And neither they, nor you, have any idea what _we_ can do." He nodded at the Minbari telepaths. "The Minbari have had telepaths for thousands of years before Humans touched the sky. Do you think their minds are any threat to us? And as for any other type of combat…They are not an obstacle to me. I will deal with them, in any manner I see fit."

The runner goggled and looked uneasily at the tall warrior. "Well, alright then." He stepped in. "I'll stay too, I guess. The enemy of my enemy…"

Neroon merely waited.

It wasn't long before the Blood Hounds hunted their way into the office and came face to face with eight Minbari telepaths.

"Did you really think you could come after my daughter and be allowed to live?" Neroon said softly. The Blood Hounds, every one of them P13s, were paralyzed by the focused energy of the Minbari unit. Neroon laughed bitterly and walked around them slowly, and then motioned for them to be backed into the alley. These Humans had come between an old gokar and his whelp. "Perhaps this woman is a nuisance to you. That is why you are here, is it not? I will heartily agree that she is trying of the greatest capacity for patience. But she is mine. If anyone is going to take her out of existence, it will be me! If you wish to dispute this issue, it should not be in the office of an innocent physician, although he will be available to properly attend to what is left of you. I believe the Humans have a phrase you will have heard. Check. Mate."

The arrogant contempt frozen on the faces of the Blood Hounds began to falter. The Minbari telepaths had not even expended any effort yet. Perspiration beaded on the foreheads of the Human telepaths.

Neroon shook his head. "No, it will not be so easy for you. Humans do not learn quickly, do you? My telepaths could kill you instantly, but I want you to ponder the gravity of your error, and deliver a message to your Psi Corps, that if anyone within this organization ever thinks to come near the Minbari people again, the misfortune befalling you in a moment will seem like the gentlest enlightenment." He motioned to the Minbari unit, and they released the minds of the Blood Hound unit, almost. Their telepathic abilities were being blocked. He knew they carried side-arms. And as predicted, all six drew them. But he was too close. He stepped easily up under the closest man, brushing the firearm up and rolling the cop over his shoulder and onto the ground, palm-striking into his nose, just hard enough to break it, but no harder. He had been looking forward to a good cathartic fight for too long to let this end quickly. He held the man's wrist still gripping the gun, and drove a palm into the side of the elbow. The man yelled and dropped the gun, elbow shattered. Neroon caught the firearm and swung behind another man, holding the gun to his temple, and using the man as a shield in front of him. "Oh, come now! Is this the extent of your physical skills? Have you become so reliant on your mind-bending abilities that one old man can render you helpless in a fight?" He was easily twenty years older than any of the men attempting to kill him. He shoved the man away from him and tossed the gun contemptuously to one of the Minbari unit, who pocketed it. Other than evening the telepathic playing field, Neroon did not require assistance. Neroon opened his arms and beckoned them. They hesitated for barely a second out of shock, and then all opened fire. Anticipating this, he dive-rolled low under the blasts to the man directly across from him, blocked the gun up and thrust a claw hand into the groin, and yanked, feeling something tear. The man doubled and Neroon caught him by the throat, black-gloved fingers gouging into the soft points on either side of the trachea. His hand closed around the windpipe, and he tugged enough so that the man could feel the suffocation and control of the hand. Neroon closed his hand and then let go, resisting the urge to yank and squeeze the tissue into liquid. He thrust the choking man in front of him to take one of the blasts, careful to make certain that his Human shield did not take a fatal shot. The blast hit the man in the stomach. Unable to scream without choking, he squirmed, but Neroon's grip on his arms bit deep into the muscle. The telepath was utterly helpless, as Neroon mule-kicked into another assailant's knees who was trying to maneuver behind him, and then hook-kicked the hand with the gun, snapping two of the phalanges and a number of bones in the wrist. Neroon dropped his current shield and side-stepped behind the man he had just kicked, grabbing his broken wrist, twisting the bone-fragments and fingers up with one hand so that the man's hand was bent and his arm was extended behind him. With his other hand, Neroon grabbed the man's hair, tearing some of the skin loose from the scalp. One of the remaining two men standing had been firing, and the shots rained into the arms and bellies of the men Neroon had been using as shields. But as the next blast came in, Neroon decided that it had come too close to his head and shoved the current Human in front and sideways, so that the next blast burned off most of the man's face, but didn't hit a major artery or damage the brain. The man who had just fired ran out of caps, and paused to reload, hands trembling so hard he almost dropped the cartridge. The other man paused, not wanting to make the same mistake and shoot his fellow officer again.

"Please, take your time to reload. Your friend is waiting!" Neroon shook the Human he held slightly, who had gone limp, shuddering occasionally. Neither of the remaining telepaths moved, eyes wide. Neroon was going to have to make this easier for them or they would be here all day. "Fine. Perhaps I overestimated even your sparse talents." He dropped the third man, who moaned slightly as he hit the ground, and Neroon kicked him out of the way. They fired again, and Neroon ducked under the blasts, stepped to the left and side-thrust one man in the ribs, sending him toppling into his partner. While they struggled to get up, Neroon was upon them like a dark hurricane, planting a heel into the small of the fourth man's back, which had been facing the sky. Vertebrae crunched and the Human screamed as bone shards sliced into his spinal cord. Neroon grabbed him by the hair and tossed him backwards, onto his fractured spine, paying him no more attention, and stood above the other man, who looked up at the Minbari with dread. "You should have fallen first. I might have been easier on you." His dark eyes flashed with cold battle rage. The man feebly held up his gun, pointing the muzzle at Neroon. The warrior snorted and grabbed the gun, jerked it out of the man's fingers and pinned him to the ground, knee on his right leg folded over the left, elbow on his right shoulder immobilizing the other arm. And then Neroon drew his knife. With a swift motion, he sliced through the man's hamstrings, and the ligaments and tendons on the back of the wrists, avoiding the major veins. The Human screamed. Neroon stood and re-sheathed his knife. "Before you lament your disability, remember what you attempted to do to my daughter." Without another word, he left them there, followed by the Minbari telepaths and the Human runner who had stood openmouthed at the entrance to the clinic.

"It is time to leave." He said brusquely. "How is Havah?"

"Better. The fever is still high but going down." The doctor fiddled with the monitors. "Alright. She really should remain here longer, but I suppose that it would be better for you to leave now." He had been shaken by the fight too. "What shall I do about the bodies. I have clients who need someplace innocuous to be treated, someplace that won't be noticed. This place can't be used anymore."

"They are all still alive. I will send them on their vessel back to their own base. And I will find you a new place to treat your refugees, one that is less easy for this telepath organization to find. My telepaths will remain behind, to help you and find a place that suits your needs. It is not our practice to involve ourselves with Humans, but you have risked your business and welfare to save my daughter's life, and perhaps her limb. We do not forget such gestures."

The doctor nodded tentatively. Felshenn attended to payment, arranged for the Minbari telepaths to stay, and gathered another crew-member to help him take the maimed Blood Hounds back to their ship, and put it on autopilot back to the coordinates from which it had come. Neroon put his arm under Havah's shoulder, and one under her knees, lifted her carefully, and carried her through back streets to the ship.

End Part II

*Author's note: I cannot take credit for the invention of Frozen Dead Guy Day in any way. It is a real holiday in Nederland, Colorado, and began in 2001 around the freezing of Bredo Morstoel and the efforts of his son Trygvie Bruge. Nor can I take credit for the listed activities like the coffin races. The resourceful community of Nederland created those and has participated in them for the past two years with gusto. 'The truth is stranger than fiction.'


	21. Chapter 21

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 21—Ancient History

Havah awoke groggily, with pain screaming through her left arm and a polite Minbari physician smiling down at her.

He fiddled with the drain in her wrist. "How are you feeling?"

She mumbled, lips thick with anesthesia. "Ummmm, fil like crp." She tried to sit up, mouth dry.

The doctor arrested her with his hand and reached for a cup of water. "Just rest for now. Here." He helped her wet her mouth with a few sips. "You were still bad shape when they brought you here. The ship physician had to wait for the bone infection to clear before working on your hand."

Havah glanced nervously at her bandaged arm. She tried to wiggle her fingers but nothing responded. Her heart started racing and a cold cramping chill sunk in through her abdomen. The thought being paralyzed or losing a limb had always terrified her. She'd known the risk in Earth Force. She knew people who had lost limbs during the war by explosions, mines, burns. They were never quite the same, and people never treated them quite the same either. She'd always just put it out of her head. A lot of people in the Marines had just drunk to forget the awareness of their chances. She'd never had that option. What if it was paralyzed, hanging from her arm like a dead shriveled thing? How would she adjust?

The physician saw the play of fear across her glance and reassured her. He had cared for the Star Riders for most of his professional life and recognized that look. "Yes, it's still there, and you will be able to use it again. We were able to re-attach the tendons and ligaments and repair the blood vessels and the skin and muscle grafts were successful. The bone has already mostly healed, but it is still weak. It will be some time before you regain the function that you are used to. The surgery was difficult, since there was a lapse in time between the injury and repair. You will need more surgery to fully repair the connective tissue. But you can begin rehabilitation soon, after the next surgery, in a few days." Knowing she would remember almost nothing he told her now, he shuffled about and ordered food brought in. "Eat now." He stayed to guide her and make sure most of the food made it into her mouth, and then cleared the tray away and left her to sleep.

Pain woke her up in the middle of the night. She peeled back the bandages for a morbid look. Synth-skin plastered the wounds, rough and uneven over the scars forming from the grafts. The arm wouldn't be pretty, but at least it was still there. She reattached the bandages. Eventually they could remove the scars, but for now, she needed to see if she could learn to use those muscles again. She drowsed asleep again.

After the next surgery, her mind cleared and she noticed a still black figure in the corner. Neroon. He approached her bed.

"The doctor has informed me that you are recovering well. Now that you are more lucid and your memory will be functional, you can begin training. In fact, the stimulation will be good for your recovery. It will be another week or two before you can begin physical training, so you will begin with clan history." He laid an armful of scroll containers on the table next to her. "This is the documented geneology of the Star Riders clan. In the next two weeks, you will memorize your ancestors and be able to tell me the nature of their relations, what dates they lived and died, and what their prominent accomplishments were. I will question you thoroughly prior to the start of physical training. Do you understand?"

Havah uncapped one of the containers and unrolled the contents with her working hand and wide eyes. There had to have been ten-thousand years of history in this collection. Ten-thousand years memorized in the next two weeks? "Yes sir." She said warily. He nodded and left. And she sat, staring at the containers like Cinderella wondering how she was going to sort a silo full of grain by the end of the day. Where were the pixies when you needed them? But no magical creatures could force the knowledge into her brain, so she unrolled the rest of the containers and started at the earliest and began working her way up. And doing everything with one hand made it a slow business. At least it was not her writing hand that was out of use.

The physician brought her food, glancing at the scrolls strewn across the table, smiling. "Be sure to get plenty of rest. Not too late."

Havah ignored him and sat late into the night poring over the papers until the names started to blur and dance and laugh at her. They were really quite fascinating though. And the lineage appeared to be recorded farther back than she had first supposed. Translated into Earth time, the recorded lineage dated back 750,000 years, about 100,000 years after the last great migration from the polar regions, the Cold Times. That made these records far older than the Pleistocene era on Earth, while Homo _erectus_ was still plodding through pre-Ice Age Asia! And these were not records of the first Minbari culture either, only one record of this particular geneology. This meant that not only had they evolved into their current form by this time, complete with culture, but this was archaeological evidence of written language that early! Jesus! She had known that the Minbari were an old species, but…She handled the parchments carefully.

_These can't be the originals, they have to be copies_, she thought. _No one in his right mind would allow these out of a museum!_

She laid back and mused for a moment. There were copies of genetics in her cells that could be traced back before Humans became Human. It was mind-boggling. And despite the various Minbari clan skirmishes, the texts had all been preserved.

_What would our world be like now if the library at Alexandria hadn't been burned, and cuneiform tablets had all remained unscoured by the sand?_

A hundred thousand names to remember. Thankfully, the Minbari were a long lived race, and didn't appear to produce as many offspring as Humans, or there would have been a lot more than that to memorize. She still didn't see how she was going to do it, but these texts were more than worthy of the attempt. After her eyes cleared a little she dove back into the scrolls with relish. In addition, she realized as she read, this was not the beginning of the clan, but the point at which it began being recorded as one. There was not one common ancestor but a few families, so even if they were geographically isolated, there was some genetic variation. She remembered the first names quite easily: Callir Goku 'shar, for whom her family was named, Callir Gokar-Killer, Haal Kal'tot Thanra—Haal Who-Keeps-Away-the-Kal'tot, Kishili Fit'An—Kishili Star Rider or Who-Speaks-To-The-Stars, and a few others, nine in all, nine families, nine houses. Nine, there was that number again. And it was notable that all of these ancestors were women. The geneology was matrilineal. Refreshing. As she perused the records, she found another set of names she recognized: Turanni of the family of Callir, her daughter Kuraal, and her husband Trelann. There were no family lines extending past Kuraal in that unit, and the inscription next to Turanni and Kuraal read 'Perished at Z'Hadum, 447700-447733, 447730-447733.' Next to Trelann, the inscription read 'Perished in the line of duty, 447695-447733.' These were Minbari dates, the dates of their births and deaths. Turanni had been 33 years old, very young by Minbari standards. Kuraal had been three.

_Next year_, Havah thought. _I'll be 33 in a few months_._ She's my ancestor, sort of. Her direct line was interrupted, but we share DNA._

She continued reading the inscriptions listing Turanni as a member of the first Grey Council and an Alyt of the starship Ingata during the Great Shadow War.

_Ingata? It can't be the same ship as Neroon's. They aren't even the same build anymore. They must have continued the names as the new models replaced the old ones, just another way of tracing lineage._ _I know you Turanni, more about you than your chromosomes and your ship._ And she drifted to sleep with scrolls in her hand. But her ancestor remained quiet for now.

Neroon came in the next day, with what seemed to Havah, another truckload of scrolls and data crystals. He quickly scanned over the piles of scrolls on the table and in her lap, satisfied that she had been trying to make some headway on them, and presented her with a box of crystals, since there was nowhere to place them on the table or anywhere else. "The Star Rider's clan history. You must learn more than names and brief inscriptions. You must learn who we are, and how we are a part of the Minbari people." Fixing her with a pointed look, he left again, before she could ask when she was supposed to have this new data memorized. She looked at the mountain of material with a mixture of despair and wild exhilaration that she was going to be studying ancient history that rivaled the age of some of the oldest myths and legends on Earth.

_Begin at the beginning_, she thought. This history began with the nine families after their migration with the Minbari people. Not early enough. She knew that there was recorded history prior to this, there had to be, this was just a recording of the defined clan's place in this society. But if Neroon wanted her to understand, then she needed to see the formation of the clans to understand how this society evolved as it did. She had the physician call Felshenn, whom she knew was Neroon's aide. He would be able to get her these materials without bothering her father. He came in, glancing at the papers stacked around her. He just stared at her quizzically, waiting for her to tell him why he'd been requested. He had better things to do than play attaché to this Human.

"Do you have any material on Minbari prehistory?"

"What do you mean prehistory?"

She paused. She had read some things among the Anla Shok, but they'd been too lacking in detail. "Pre-history, like, before recorded or verified history."

"That makes no sense. If it is before recorded time, then how do you suppose we would have a record of it?"

Havah sighed. "Never mind." There was no way she could think of to explain what she meant. Maybe it was just an Earth concept, since Humans were so recently evolved. "Well, what about any records of the Minbari time in the sea, or anytime before the Ice Age?"

"Ice age?"

"The Cold Times."

He nodded. "Yes, I will retrieve some records and bring them when I have time, perhaps later. Have you finished all of this already, that you are asking for more?" He said skeptically.

"No, it's just that I figured that I'd understand all this better if I started at the very beginning."

He said nothing, just stared at her for a moment and then left.

He returned with crystals some hours later, put them onto another table that had been set up and left before she could say 'Thank you.'

But it was exactly what she needed. Historians had kept track of where the old settlements were reputed to have been before the transition to land. Having originated recently, in evolutionary time, from the sea, the Minbari were exceptional divers and swimmers, capable of withstanding extreme levels of water pressure with minimal amounts of oxygen for impressive periods of time. Divers had returned to some of these submarine ruins. The frigidity of the arctic water had preserved them well. There had been caves with pictographs carved into crystal, rock, and hardened coral skeleton from a time when the waters had been temperate. Some appeared to be tales, others maps. They were elaborate, with other markings indicating phonetics. Written language dating back to…3 million years ago! And that was only what had been found. These beings had needed no other shelter, and the sea had left few other relics. But they clearly had opposable thumbs or _some_ physical capacity to write and build, maybe specialized fins, and obviously the mental capacity as well. There were no pictures to be had anywhere of the prehistoric Minbari, although there must have been some physical evolution after this point to allow them to survive on land as bipeds. But she was not a marine biologist, and couldn't even begin to imagine what their anatomy might have looked like.

According to the history, about 3 million years ago, the climate began slowly cooling. The Minbari began to change, generation by generation, natural selection weeding out those who could not respond to the cold and the sinking of the water consumed by the advancing glaciers. About two million years ago, the temperature and level of the water became unlivable to the Minbari species without greater technology to weather the changes than they possessed at the time, and they faced extinction. No one knew exactly when or exactly how the change was made and the climatic threat survived. But about a thousand years later than the threat of extinction was carved for record into the frozen reefs for no one but the loktari and arctic fish, glyphs appeared on land, nearly identical to those in the ocean ruins. The chain of language had not been broken. And petrified frozen remains of a sea-Minbari had been found and analyzed and respectfully left in its watery grave, with no pictures of course, indicating that the genetics were similar enough to confirm that the species carving the land glyphs was a close variation on the one that had carved them in the sea. There was a gap in written record after this for a period of about 10,000 years in which history was derived from songs, long elaborate songs, passed down precisely by verbal tradition and then recorded with pure phonetic representation, later, rather than the earlier mixture of pictoral and phonetic. At least no documents or carvings had been found during this period. The form of language was more ancient than the one she recognized from the time of Valen. It contained accents, clicks, rumbles and wails that her vocal chords were not capable of making, all of which were no longer present in the modern language. The songs were of the sea, the past, the cold, and the journey they had taken to the equatorial band. Here, though names were not recorded, the story of the Kal'tot and of the clans began, over one and a half million years ago, nearing the end of the last australopithecine line on Earth.

The songs talked about the bitter cold, the massive rivers of ice thundering inexorably through the land and shallowing sea. They learned to walk the rivers and crevasses, navigating south to the rivers' end. The stars often vanished in skies that were as white as the ice by day, and as blank as the void by night. But somehow, they found their way, by star when the stars were visible, by wave and the voice of the wind and the leaning of growth, by leaving markings to retrace their new faltering steps above water. Forty-thousand years, forty-thousand years they traveled to the end of the rivers where the ice melted into water again. Only one-third of the family lines that began the migration survived to finish it.

The songs indicated that when they finally arrived at a suitable place, they began to mine the rock to build homes, and fish, forage, and hunt, spreading out across the continent. But they found another species interfering with their new habitat, who also used the networks of caves, although they did not create new ones as the Minbari did. These occupants were proto-sentient, with rudimentary speech and a loose society, that appeared to the Minbari rough and uncivilized compared to the grace of the ocean creatures they had always known. After long months of frustrating attempts at first contact, they learned that these beings called themselves 'drahg' or 'drahgk', as near as the Minbari could tell from their speech. They could not entirely understand the syllables, foreign to the Minbari speech and vocal pipes as they were. So the Minbari called them Min Holori, Children of the Rock. They co-existed tensely for years, but resources grew sparse, and the nocturnal habits of the Min Holor did not fit well with the habits of the diurnal Minbari, who would sometimes find their stores of food pilfered or their hunting grounds usurped. Although, Havah thought, it sounded as though it was the Minbari who did the usurping, since the Min Holori were there first. While their habits led them to hunt different animals, the capture of certain species altered the ecology and drove away those that the Minbari sought.

Finally, both societies buckled under the population pressure and exploded into hostility. According to the songs, the Min Holori raided the Minbari villages one night in a unified effort greater than any the Minbari had expected from this 'primitive race', and hundreds died as fields and forests burned and homes were destroyed by rock-falls. In the dead of night, Minbari fought with the pirates, and the shrieks of the burned and frightened were drowned by the crashing waves as Minbari who tried to escape into the wild sea perished, the sea that used to be their refuge. Their near-annihilation drove the Minbari to a collective battle rage, and the following months saw the planning, organization and implementation of a greater assault on another species than the peaceful sea-dwellers had ever known. They began training to fight on land, crafting new weapons of metal and crystal, and a militia was formed of the men and women of 81 families, nine times nine, among them were the families of Callir, Haal, Kishili and the others who were now being called the Star Riders for their skill in navigating by starlight.

Years of skirmish and outright battle ensued, and slowly, the more advanced skill of the organized Minbari prevailed. They drove the Min Holori hill by hill, forest by forest, cave by cave up against the seas. Every warren they were found in was destroyed. But just as the long years of struggle seemed almost over, something went wrong. Minbari began acting strangely, turning on other Minbari. Members of the army began fighting amongst themselves, and turning on the rest of the populace in inexplicable acts of violence, ending in suicide. After months, the numbers of possessed grew and it was the Minbari who were being scattered out of their own homes into the forests and back against the rivers of ice from which they had come. No Minbari could trust the words of any other.

One brave woman examined the bodies of the possessed despite the risk to her own body and soul, and made a startling discovery. These men and women had indeed been possessed, by a parasite that had wrapped itself around the base of the neck, on the shoulder, and from there inserted itself into the neural and spinal fibers of the victims, controlling their every movement. Here the story grew mythical. According to the song, a guardian of Minbar, came to her the next night and told her not to destroy the bodies of their enemies because the answer to the plague was with them. She found the rough graves of the fallen Min Holori, risking discovery both by remaining enemies, and by the crazed members of her own tribes, and dug them up. The plague had issued from the Min Holori. The parasites were not isolated organisms at all, but buds of their own bodies, premature pods with each a single baleful eye, one of which stared blankly at the sky now that its parent was long dead. As a last attempt at self-preservation, the Min Holori were infiltrating the Minbari with their own offspring, and it was working. With revulsion at her new realization, Valeria returned to her people only to be scorned, beaten, and accused of being a spy herself, a Skin-Stealer or Kal'tot, as the possessed were now being called. Imprisoned and in despair, Valeria prayed to Dol'An to help her people believe her and deliver them from the yoke of possession. Her prayer was answered, and she was visited by a guardian, bathed in white light who never gave its name. It told her mournfully that there was no way to heal those who had already been taken, but they could regain their bodies for a short while again, long enough for everyone to see and know what had happened. And in that time, they could build a force large enough to destroy the last cells of the enemy. The guardian told her where to find the ingredients she needed to put the Watchers to sleep, without putting to sleep the victims, and gave her the location of the last remaining coves harboring the Min Holori, and led her out of her jail. She readied the draughts, and as the guardian distracted the tribes with its appearance, she released the mixture into the water supply. Within a day, those who had been possessed were tearfully themselves, like Eurydice returned from Hades for a single night, Havah thought. She showed them all what she'd found, and the victims confirmed what she'd said to the disbelievers.

Knowing their time was short before their souls were exiled again, they gathered and, led by Valeria, encircled the last bastion of the enemy. Only to find the place deserted. A scream rent the air, raking through their minds. Something many-legged and black tore the sky, and then there was nothing but the sounds of the woods and settling rock. The war party scoured the land until night wore into morning, searching through every nook and crag and stand of trees, but the Skin-Stealers were gone. Feeling the return of the unwanted Watchers, the warriors sacrificed themselves on their own swords rather than be cast out of their bodies again to betray their people. Valeria, in grief and chagrin at what her advice had led to, grabbed a fallen warrior's sword and would have joined them, but a guardian appeared and stopped her. With laments, she beat her hands against her head-crest and mourned the fallen. The guardian surveyed the events, vanished and was never seen again.

Valeria returned in dishonor to her people and told them what had happened. She was again imprisoned for abandoning the people she had led clearly to a fate worse than death. But as time wore on, and Valeria prayed and prayed to Dol'An who no longer appeared to be listening, the Kal'tot were never heard from again. No more members of the tribes were possessed. The war party had succeeded, and so had Valeria. Decades later, as she lay aged and serene, the Elders of the tribes met. The events of the past were reviewed, and she was released, honored and accepted as an Elder. She died after years of leading the tribes in wisdom, peace, and the meditation she had learned from her decades of captivity, as one of the most beloved leaders ever known.

_Very interesting,_ Havah thought, as she looked up from a scroll. It was long past dark, as the physician scurried in and glared at her for ignoring him the last two times he had tried to get her attention. "You must eat, and sleep if you are to heal. The scrolls are thousands of years old, they will be here at least another day."

She let him take them away, and ply her with water and food. He checked her wound, examined her, and lowered the light, ordering her to sleep. But she didn't. The stories cycled through her head. It all made sense, the Minbari aversion to certain types of deception, fear that the Skin Stealers would return, the reaction to threat, the formation of a standing army following the militia. Here was the origin of the castes. Most societies remained somewhat egalitarian until population pressure forced them to stratify and diversify, specializing the division of labor as each body of knowledge grew, and the society became entrenched. The Min Holori, the Kal'tot, as the Minbari finally called them, the Dragkh, as the Kal'tot called themselves. Where had she heard that name before? They had released a surprising weapon against the Minbari, who were threatening the very continuation of their species, however 'primitive' according to the Minbari. My, how familiar that sounded. And the Kal' tot…they obviously didn't reproduce in the same way, in the family units that the Minbari were used to, so they must have seemed alien. The Minbari had forgotten that most species had last-resort defense mechanisms when threatened with extinction.

_But where did they go? They were winning, why did they disappear? Most myths contain a grain of truth. Who are these guardians?_ Havah wondered, _bathed in pale light_. And what had loosed its scream on the night of the disappearance? The shadows in the room seemed longer than they had a moment ago, and Havah squeezed her eyes shut, determined to get some sleep. Psi-cops with yellow eyes peering from their necks, sawed at her arms and legs and she tossed until dawn, retching.

The smell of food woke her up as the physician badgered her to eat again and checked her progress. "I don't like those circles under your eyes. Do you need help sleeping? In another day, you can begin rehabilitation exercises. This will help to restore the strength, and range of motion to your hand." Havah nodded gratefully. She was starting to go stir-crazy, and the lack of one hand made her feel even more trapped. She dove into the crystals and scrolls again almost feverishly. Their world, locked in the past as it was, seemed safer. As the history continued, there was a period of relative prosperity, progress and leaps of technology that dwarfed those on Earth during the Industrial Age. But as the population grew, inter-caste and inter-clan tension grew alongside. Tensions blossomed into open rivalries. The worker caste families quarreled amongst themselves for the assignment of projects. The religious caste families competed for prominence in the temples. And the warrior caste clans formed and fortified their own fighting academies, each claiming to produce the toughest, fiercest fighters. The Minbari began looking to the skies and reaching out with new technologies.

The first space flight, 500,000 years Before the Common Era on Earth, was undertaken by the Star Riders, as their name heralded them. It was only appropriate. Their ancient system of navigating the stars was written in program and the ship was engineered and built by the worker caste. It ended in disaster. The trauma of take-off damaged one of the engines and they lost the ability to navigate in orbit. The ship fell back to Minbar and burned in the atmosphere. The blaze in the night sky sent the souls of the warriors back across the sea. The Star Riders were aggrieved. They blamed the workers for shoddy workmanship and engaged in a row that resulted in the embargo of the Shipwright's Guild. They would do it themselves. Rather than give up, this calamity only made them more determined to reach space. And with the help of a half-caste shipwright who left the guild, they built ship after ship and sent crew after crew up to die among the stars after falling back to planet again, freezing to death, or drifting into the sun. The Wind Swords pacified the angry Shipwright's Guild and gained their help in building ships that put them in direct competition with the attempts of the Star Riders. But, twelve years and five Star Rider crews later, their crude ship made it not only to space, but to a system world and back, alive. Havah made certain to memorize the names of all of these astronauts, since she was certain that these were among the ancestors she was expected to know.

The space race did nothing to decrease the growing hostilities between clans or castes. The ferocity of the competition grew between the different warrior caste clans, with the Star Riders and the Wind Swords, as they were now known, at the forefront. Skirmishes on their borderlands grew common, as each fighting group sought to display dominance and superior skill. The religious caste began to clash with the warrior caste families whom they had trained in certain fighting techniques, since they now felt that these skills were being abused. Meanwhile, political jockeying among the temples grew incessant.

Finally, there was the appearance of clusters of remarkable Minbari, Minbari who had special abilities, to communicate without speaking a word, to know the thoughts of others, even to bend wills other than their own and cast images outside of themselves. The Mind Benders. Instead of reacting with fear as Earthers had done, each caste and clan had sought immediately to claim their own telepaths along with the powers they possessed. The warrior caste used their telepaths to best each other in the skirmishes that were beginning to turn into full-scale battles, with significant deaths on both sides. The religious caste used theirs to gain political ground and gain closeness to the spirits. The worker caste used them to increase efficiency on the worksite in communication, and explored the possibility of telekinesis to reduce the need for manual labor.

A breaking point was reached. The warrior telepaths were sent against religious caste telepaths to gain information that had been denied them. Except that two of the opposing telepaths came from the same family. On the night of the invasion, the religious half-caste begged for mercy and a moment to listen. His cousin gave him the moment. Telepaths spanned the population, in every profession, across caste and clan. Their gifts should belong to no one of them alone. They should belong to the Minbari people as a whole. The warrior telepaths agreed, but what could they do? They had their orders. The religious cousin appealed to their reason and devotion to their people. It would require an initial act of mutiny, but didn't they owe their loyalty as warriors to the welfare of the Minbari people? What if their orders were not in the best interests of the Minbari people? The soldiers continued to listen. An alliance of telepaths was needed to show their own families and castes that they were not to be used for each clan's separate purposes. The warriors finally agreed. In the next couple nights, all telepaths were linked and entered the wilderness of Mount Thal'dhu. They had had enough.

Their respective clans were outraged and attempted to retrieve their errant clan members, but the collective powers of the telepaths hid them from all who approached. And meanwhile, the architects and builders among them built. When it was finished, the Thal'dhu Temple stood shielded by the mountain from which it had been quarried. At their chosen time, the telepaths used the broadcasting capacities of the temple to send a message to the Minbari people, in their homes, workplaces, temples, and academies.

"You demand our loyalty as clanmembers, but you have forgotten that your clan, your caste, is not the only clan or caste that makes up our people! What makes any of you think that you are better than any other? What makes you think yourselves worthy to speak for our entire race when you cannot even abide each others existence? You have forgotten that your clans, your castes exist to serve the others, each adding its part to the good of the people as a whole. You demand the loyalty of the telepaths without having proven your own! We are no longer at the whim of individual families! Our gifts are not to be used so cavalierly! We live to serve, not just our clan, but all who have need of us. We will determine this need from now on. If you have doubt of our loyalty or our willingness to serve our people, then come and show yours! You are willing to throw our lives away, but are you willing to give your own if it was asked of you?"

At this challenge, a heavy stone shield irised open in the zenith of the domed ceiling. Varenni, the leader of the new alliance, was bathed in a shaft of light. He swayed slightly as the microwaves generated by the giant wheel of karak'tan, a mineral that Havah didn't recognize or couldn't translate, began to heat up his organs.

"We are."

He stood silent as the wheel opened farther and farther, and his clothes smoked and his skin turned scarlet and sizzled. In a final burst of combustion, he exploded as the entire Minbari world looked on in horror and remorse. They flooded the streets and the hillside as Minbari flocked to the mountain temple to see in person what had happened and mourn the tragedy that had led to this. The few hundred telepaths ringed the temple, silent and menacing as the throng approached, but allowed them to enter and see the ashes of their leader. They surrounded the pilgrims and allowed them to feel their own grief. The ashes were gathered by the pilgrims and brought back to Yedor, the new capital, and the fractured Council of Caste Elders was called to resolve issues that had gone too long unaddressed. Extreme times called for extreme measures. This was to be the final word. Varenni had stated the solution succinctly. If any wished to demonstrate the value of their clan's leadership, they would have to prove it with their own lives, instead of wasting the time and lives of others. The alliance leader's ashes were returned to his temple, known now as the Temple of Varenni, and the telepaths formed a guild, supported equally by all of the castes. Their services were offered freely to all, and they were trained not only in assisting their own clans and castes, but cross-trained in order to assist others, military tactics, communication skills, meditation. Of even more interest to Havah was that Varenni had been a half-caste, religious on the side of his mother, and warrior caste on the side of his father, of the Star Riders clan.

She finally ate a few bites, lowered the lights and slept.

_Psi cops peered through her own eyes, forcing her to move as they willed, as black suited figures cornered her with bone saws and amputated her hands. She watched her severed wrists as the tissue necrotized down the length of her arms before her eyes, the gangrenous black flesh melting off as the bones crumbled. _She screamed on her bed and thrashed her arms to make sure they were still there, and slid off onto the floor. A medical attendant came running, but she irritably waved her away and climbed back onto the bed. After an hour, her eyelids sank closed again. _Neroon stood in the center of a penetrating beam of white light, at the center of a vast stone circle in a huge domed temple. He raised his arms as the stream of light widened. She could see the fibers of his uniform vibrating wildly, and then there was a crack, a flash, and he was gone, curls of dust wisping up in the heated air. The stone shield grated closed and the temple was dark and empty._

"FATHER!" Havah shrieked, lurched forward and slid off the bed again. She sat on her knees, as the attendant rushed in again. "GO AWAY!" She yelled from her knees on the flagstone, and burst into sobs. The woman clucked and took Havah by the shoulders and helped her back onto the bed, poured some tea, put the cup into Havah's hand, and smoothed her wild hair. Havah sniffled and sipped the tea, mumbling 'thank you'. She sighed deeply, put the cup of tea onto the night table and laid down again, closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep. The woman left, and Havah opened her eyes, and cried quietly.

The next day's studies didn't mute her imagination. Despite the new edict, the hostilities between the Star Riders and Wind Swords were only temporarily assuaged. As time passed, they rose again, even infecting the fledgling colonies that had begun to terraform outlying worlds in the sector. After a couple centuries, a new artificial gravity system was developed for the ships, along with a new navigation system, based on the old Wind Sword's methods of wave measurement. A recent breakthrough had been made among the premier aerospace engineers of the Shipwright's Guild: the detection of graviton waves. As soon as this discovery was known, the Wind Swords commissioned the engineering of a fleet of ships with diffraction systems, similar to the ancient ones developed by their best sea-farers, designed to detect the particle waves instead of water waves. The Wind Swords' prominence grew exponentially, and the competition between their clan and the Star Riders grew, eclipsing the other clans and drawing them in on one side or the other. There followed centuries of killing on both sides, sporadic and explosive, and then periods of calm.

In the year 447695, a new menace was felt among the stars, and then vanished again, as quickly as it had come. It was never seen, but there were isolated reports of something vast and dark passing ships near a certain sector by the Rim. More and more often, those ships would fail to report back. Had the Kal'tot returned? And then the threat was silent. No more ships vanished for a few years. The military remained vigilant, but the tensions, suppressed due to imminent threat, resurfaced. A year later, an accusation was made by the Star Riders, true or untrue, that the Wind Swords had created this threat or even collaborated with this unknown enemy, and were the ones responsible for the disappearances, since they were the only ones in the military whose ships had not encountered 'an incident'. The situation exploded too swiftly to allow for any evidence, if any existed, to be presented. Civil war was upon them. This had been a direct challenge of honor, and so the soldiers of the two clans were called off the ships to engage in a face-to-face battle.

At dawn on the eighteenth day of Lilishan, in the year 447709, one of the most savage and bloody single battles between Minbari was fought. For three days, the warriors raged, churning the initial plain and surrounding hillside into mud. Six-thousand lay dead or crippled when the massacre was over. The Star Riders had lost a few more, here and there, but it no longer mattered, when the remaining clansmen saw the field littered with intermingled corpses. The caste elders viewed the fields of bodies and wept. No accusation, regardless of how terrible should have caused such a loss of blood, especially during a time of need, when the Kal'tot may have returned. They assisted in clearing the field themselves, honoring the fallen, and comforting the families that they felt they had failed in allowing this challenge to take place. The field was consecrated, and the ashes of the soldiers, Wind Sword, and Star Rider were sprinkled together across it, the Plain of Six-Thousand. With the help of the worker and religious castes, a city was built for pilgrimage, in the mountainside next to the field: Tuzanor, the City of Sorrows. With a lump in her throat, Havah checked the geneology and realized that this was the battle that had lost Turanni her father.

She read on. The strange disappearances began again, almost immediately following the tragedy, as though whatever lay in wild of the Rim had been waiting for their forces to be decimated. The military trained and refined its skill and made innovations in technology, combat readiness, and investigative capacity, to no avail. The disappearances continued with as much anonymity as they had begun. Finally, ten years after the battle of Six-Thousand, after almost three decades of martial alert status, a single ship returned on autopilot. The Fire Storm. All of the crew was dead and frozen, following the failure of the life-support system hours earlier. But the log held a description of the silent enemy. It had not been the primitive Kal'tot that the Minbari still remembered from so long ago, but a force far more ancient and sinister. The Minbari's exploration had awoken sleeping shadows at the rim of the galaxy. And that seemed the only name for them, Shadows. So began the great Shadow War.

The Minbari despaired, and the warriors stoically prepared for almost certain annihilation. The next few years went hard, and the Minbari were losing. Most of their best ships were gone, along with most of the best crews. And it looked as though, despite the remaining tension between clans, there would be not be enough warriors to fight anyone soon, the enemy or each other. Then, a station appeared in empty space. Just appeared. At least that is what it looked like on the sensors of the nearby Fire Wing ship that went to investigate. What the boarding team found, was another Minbari, or what appeared to be, flanked by floating beings of light like those described in legends as the Guardians of Dol'An. The Minbari introduced himself as Valen, claiming to bring the station, and a couple of other items as gifts to the Minbari people. Naturally, the warriors were wary. It would have been a perfect ploy, and there were clear warnings in the scrolls about what had happened to Minbari who appeared to be Minbari before. But Valen's charisma was strong, and he obviously had the aid of the Guardians, who called themselves Vorlons. And they needed that aid, and the station. Gradually, he made himself indispensable with his military training, and adept tactics. He also possessed an awareness of these Shadows unparalleled by any other of their generals. By the end of the year, with the assistance of the Vorlons, he had organized a crack fighting force that superceded the previous squabbles of the military clans: the Anla Shok. Slowly, painfully, the war began to turn in their favor. His young aide, Turanni, of the Star Riders, distinguished herself with her tactical skill and efficiency. At the end of the war, the formation of a provisional governorship was announced by the exhausted Council of Caste Elders. It was comprised of nine Minbari, three from each caste, who had each demonstrated skill in their professions and appeared to have some degree of diplomatic ability. Turanni was among them, and the new council was led by Valen, who had pushed the idea through to the Caste Elders. As mysteriously as they had appeared, the Vorlons vanished, their assistance no longer required.

But the Shadows had not struck their final blow. Shortly after arriving on home-world, Turanni learned that her young child had been abducted. Wild with grief at the loss of first her husband, and then her child, she left in the blackest hour of night, believing her child to be held on the empty home-world of the Shadows. Either she would return with the girl, or would die avenging her. Neither she nor the girl were ever seen again. Valen mourned her loss bitterly, fasting and secluding himself for nine days and nights, blaming himself for what happened to her. After ten cycles, her place on the new Grey Council was filled.

Havah looked up from the screen to find her father standing silently in the doorway, watching her.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough."

Dammit! She was Anla Shok, how had she not heard him or seen him?

"The doctor has informed me that you can begin physical training." He laid down a bundle of black clothes and boots. "Be ready, an hour before first light." He turned and left.

14


	22. Chapter 22

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 22-Recovery

She dragged herself off the slanted bed that for all its discomfort, still seemed preferable to the day ahead of her. She unfolded the tunic, jerkin, and pants that Neroon had brought: a basic midshipman's uniform of the Minbari military. _What a surprise_. She sighed as she dressed awkwardly, pulling on the boots and gloves, disliking the feel of covered hands, especially when one of them was fairly useless. It reminded her too much of the Psi cops. Neroon arrived almost as soon as she finished picking at the glove on her left hand.

He walked slowly around her, scrutinizing. "Stand at attention!"

Suppressing another sigh, she complied, back rigid, eyes down.

"I said stand at attention! Did you not even learn to stand properly among the Anla Shok?"

She thought she knew better than to open her mouth this time, and straightened her spine until she thought it would spasm, only saying "Yes, Sir!" But even that was too much.

"DO not address me with that HUMAN term! Do I appear HUMAN to you?"

"NO, S-…NO Alyt…Satai…!" She paused, not knowing what to call him anymore, especially in the daze of the remnants of pain medication.

His voice dripped with contempt. "I am no longer Satai. There are no Satai anymore. Your _friend_ Delenn, has broken the Council in a fit of prophetic distemper!"

_Oh crap!_ She forced herself to keep her eyes down, avoiding the urge to let them wander to him at any cost, and wisely made not a peep.

"You will address me either as Alyt, or as Na! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Na!"

"IN MINBARI! 'Yes', is English! You will speak only in the language of your caste and clan! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"LE, NA!"

"At long last! Have you read through all of the history?"

"Le, Na."

"We shall see." For the next nine hours he grilled her on everything she had read, including the material she had asked for, in minute detail.

_Felshenn, that rat! He told him!_

Finally, after interminable corrections of dates, facts, and incessant picking apart of her pronunciation and accent, he looked her up and down. Slowly, he spoke. "That is…satisfactory, barely."

Havah almost sagged.

He ignored her tiny lapse in decorum, as reward. The evening meal came, and he allowed her to eat, saying only, "Today has been your rest day. Gather your strength now. Tomorrow we begin at first light."

The next time the attendant came in to take away the dishes, Havah cornered her, insistent. "Why was the Council broken?"

"I…I am not permitted to speak of such things."

"Then I will find someone who is." She left the military facility, before the woman could stop her, and headed for Entilzah Sinclair's diplomatic office.

He wasn't there, but she linked out and tried to reach the compound. He wasn't there either. So she set out to get a flyer to the compound, when she ran into Trel.

His face lit up. "Havah! I am glad to see you well. You were not well when I saw you last. And for the past several days, your father said that you were not to have visitors."

Havah scowled, gave Trel a hug, and then launched into questions. "What happened? No one at the military facility will talk about it."

His look darkened. "The Grey Council has been broken. It was prophesied."

"I know that much, my father was struggling not to give me an earful about it. Why?"

"A report came back from one of the Anla Shok stationed in the League of Non-Aligned Worlds that the Shadows have been moving among them, making alliances, because they are too frightened of the Centauri, and they are willing to accept the protection offered by the Shadows. He sent word to the Grey Council that it was now time to move, but the Grey Council replied that the Minbari cannot get involved with the affairs of other races. I believe their words were 'The problems of other races are not our concern.' Delenn went to them to contest this decision, and when they would not move, she disbanded the Council."

Havah stood stunned for a moment. "Where is Entilzah Sinclair?"

"He is off-world, at one of the other out-posts, fortifying our cells within the League. He is also organizing to have them assist Babylon 5 and the other Human colonies, after what happened."

A wave of fear swept through her. "What do you mean after what happened, what else happened?"

He paused, suddenly unsure. "No one has told you? Your father—"

"He didn't say anything. What happened?"

Trel took a deep breath then. "Like Delenn, your President Clark has disbanded your Senate and declared martial law. Unlike Delenn, he has not done so with the consent of your people, as I understand. Your news network has been seized, but not before they announced that Mars refused to comply, along with the colonies of Proxima Three and Orion Seven. After Mars refused to comply, your military moved against them and bombed civilian targets on Mars in order to force the provisional government to comply. Several of your warships have protested the President's actions and refused the orders. They escaped to Babylon 5. Babylon 5 has seceded from the Earth Alliance and fought several of your warships sent there to secure it for President Clark. The Minbari force that Delenn collected after leaving the Grey Council chambers, mostly religious caste cruisers, arrived to drive off the last of Clark's assault. Babylon 5 has been secured by Captain Sheridan as an independent entity until the President has been removed."

Havah sat down hard on the stone bench. "Jesus. We're in civil war! I have to get back. I have to find Sinclair. He'll need all the help he can get now! What about Mohan and Anlashok Verscheure? I sent them on to Babylon 5, where are they?"

"Anlashok Verscheure has not reported in. We attempted contact two weeks ago and he has not responded."

Her stomach sunk. "And Dr. Mohan Satmahari? Has he arrived at the station?"

"No one by that name has passed through Babylon 5."

It had been three months since they left Earth. They had never made it. Perhaps they were captured somewhere, but where to start looking? "What about Anlashok Monyasa and Dr. Henry Gonzalez. He was at Ganymede, an IPX dig site."

Trel looked at her gravely. "You really have not heard anything. A Shadow vessel was found at Ganymede. IPX excavated it, and they were going to try to fly it. The core uses sentient beings as processing units. So they tried to insert a Human into the core, and it went mad, destroying the dome. Hundreds were killed before Sheridan led it into Jupiter's atmosphere in the new White Star prototype. We have not been able to contact Anlashok Monyasa since then."

The breath went out of Havah. It was likely that they were dead. After following her orders. Maybe they were just captured? She had been, and she had been rescued. If she could only find out where they were.

Trel put his hand on her shoulder. "They knew what was asked of them. We all do, and we choose to take our chances."

"I don't care, knowing that doesn't help. And they might still be alive, I was. I need to think." She put her hand on his. "Thanks." She hurried to the flyer, when Neroon's voice cut through the dark.

"You are going nowhere!"

"I have a duty as Sinclair's executive officer to assist, and I am needed now! Would you deny me the fulfillment of military duty?"

"You have an obligation here. It was the arrangement I made with Sinclair in return for my allowing you to remain in the Anla Shok. Your concerns should be here, to honor your clan by learning how not to embarrass them!"

"My concerns are with the war that is building in the rest of the galaxy, including on my home-world, Earth! But that's right, your concerns are only with the clan and the warrior caste. That's what you said wasn't it? 'The problems of other races aren't your concern.' That's why the Grey Council was broken, because you can't see anyone else in the galaxy but the Minbari!—"

The back of his gloved fist cracked across her cheek and she hit the ground with a thud and rolled over, standing up and wiping blood from her mouth as he advanced. "The decisions of the Grey Council are not dependent on the opinions of an insolent half-breed with delusions of adequacy!"

"My people are dying, civilians are dying!"

"They will die with or without your assistance!"

"And as long as they're not Minbari, who gives a flying leap, right?" He grabbed the sides of her jerkin and lifted her, but she leveled her eyes and stared into his. "Go ahead! Hit me again, it won't change the truth! In fact, you better shoot me if you want to keep me here, because that's the only way you're going to!"

He slammed her into the side of the flyer. "And where will you go? What will you do? Your world is engulfed in civil war! What exactly do you think you can do there with a useless hand and an unbalanced mind? Of what use are you to your commander now?"

Havah gritted her teeth and whispered. "You kept this from me. You knew what was happening on my world!"

"I knew you would try to run off and play Anla Shok without honoring your duties here! I was protecting you!"

"I don't need your protection!" She shouted.

"Really! And you were doing so well against your Psi Corps yourself, were you? You were doing so well that the Star Riders had to come rescue you, from your own government! You owe them. Your world can fight their war magnificently without your interference!"

She strained against him. He hauled her bodily in front of him and pushed her towards the medical facility. When they reached the room, she was fighting with all her willpower not to let tears slide down her face. She kept her back to him as she moved things around on the table.

He went to exit, stopped, turned around, and spoke in a tired voice. "It is a difficult thing to see your people divided and fighting. But you cannot help them as you are. You must learn patience, and bide your time. You are reasonably skilled at strategy when you are tested at games, and in certain limited instances, but in a war, longer vision is required. Train now, and prepare."

As he walked away, she finally spoke. He had ordered her to speak only in Dark Minbari, and she was. There was no trace of her Human accent, and the form of the language was archaic. Her voice had a slightly different tone than Havah normally affected, less casual, and calmer than she had been only seconds previously. "We told you that they would return."

He bristled at the expression 'we'. Delenn had taken it upon herself to speak for others in that manner, but Havah had never been so presumptuous before. Delenn's bad habits were beginning to rub off on her. An end would be put to that post-haste. But it didn't sound as though she was talking about the Anla Shok. What other 'we' was there?

Havah turned to look at him, but he was gone.

She was ready in the morning with her uniform in place. He said nothing of the previous night, only ordered her to follow him to the obstacle track. The dawn began with running.

He said before he barked her into a trot, "I have been informed that you are lacking in speed and endurance. We will start with that."

He paced her, forcing her into a dead run, far faster than her typical jog, for two and a half hours, until she vomited her morning meal, and then ran her again until just after noon.

He tossed her a packet of rations, which she caught and then turned green at the thought of eating. "Eat, or you will regret it."

She obeyed, nibbling queasily. The afternoon was filled with strength and agility exercises, focusing on all parts of the body, including her damaged wrist. Every time she flagged or winced, he increased the exercises, watching her wrist carefully, recognizing the difference between the pain of rehabilitation and damage. Her entire body was quivering late after the sun set, as he finally concluded, and tossed her more rations. Her good hand could barely hold the packet as she tore it open with her teeth, and wolfed it down this time. She slept dreamlessly.

For the next week, she ran as he dogged her steps. The infernal gloves itched and made her hands sweat and fumble until she wanted to throw them in the river. Finally, though she didn't think her running was getting any faster, if Neroon's scowl was any indication, at least she wasn't losing her breakfast. And her wrist was aching constantly, along with the rest of her body, but the function was slowly returning, along with the flexibility, and she thought her performance was increasing, until he barked at her again.

She stood as he circled her. She was exhausted, and he appeared barely winded. "Obviously, haste was not what kept you alive at Proxima Three. In fact, that event remains a mystery for the religious caste to sort out. You will continue to train in these exercises until I am satisfied. But there is a great deal more, I suspect even greater than I first supposed, to correct. Tomorrow, you will begin fighting."

She stood at attention, as he faced her, empty-handed across the mats. "Take your stance!"

She dropped into a relaxed stance with sixty percent of her weight back and forty percent forward. He simply stared at her and said with a snicker, "This is what you call a fighting stance?" He approached her panther-like. "Pity. Defend yourself." He struck out with a fake backfist to the head, swerving down to a hammerfist to the stomach, and a sweep to uproot her left leg. But Havah was ready for him. She stepped diagonally to the side putting herself to one side of Neroon and then another step behind, and out of reach of all three techniques. She twisted her waist left and brought both hands down in a double-palm strike, sending spiraling energy into his kidney and shoulder. He was thrust forward and regained his balance with a brief look of surprise. She was certainly faster on the mats than she had been on the track. Perhaps the day would not be as dismal as he had expected. Then he proceeded to thoroughly trounce her. She got in a few blows, which landed like stones on concrete against his solidity. But he was nearly the master that Sech Yurenn was at the Anla Shok compound, and he didn't pull his strikes nearly as much. After taking an elbow that swelled her eye shut, she climbed to her feet, creaking, and he was still barely winded.

_I wonder if this counts as child abuse?_ She thought, as she barely dodged a hook kick to the nose, rushed inside the kick and tried to hip check him while he was off balance. He rolled and caught her with his other foot as he rolled, knocking her to her knees. And then he pinned her. He placed his fist in between her eyes, as if she hadn't figured out that he'd won yet, and then released her.

"Rise." He waited while she stood. "Your empty-handed combat needs a great deal of work, but perhaps not as much as I expected after your lack of physical fitness."

The next couple weeks were spent in new varieties of pain. In addition to inspection every morning of her clothing and quarters, there was a heavy regimen of physical exercises on the obstacle track, until the midday meal, and then sparring all afternoon. He was a brutal and merciless teacher. After he was marginally satisfied with her empty-handed techniques, he returned her denn bok. "You had better be practiced, or tomorrow will be an exceedingly long day for both of us."

The next day, he stood across from her with denn bok in hand, still retracted. "Now you will demonstrate to me the forms of denn bok combat, and then you will apply those techniques against me. Begin."

She began, with as low stances as she could manage after the beatings she had taken the previous two weeks, and as precisely as she could given the still-limited capacity of her wrist. He was glowering when she finished. "I thought you were taught by Fursna Sech Durhan!"

Her face fell. "I was."

"Really. I would not have known. Those forms do not look worthy of anyone taught by that master! When someone of such distinction takes the time to display their skill and teach someone of your ilk, you would do well to pay attention and practice the techniques that you are being given!" He extended his pike. "Defend yourself."

She got in a number of good blows, many of which surprised him, but he was clearly allowing the match to continue only in order to test her mettle. It went on interminably. She began weaving drunkenly, partially out of exhaustion, and partially because it seemed a good time to try melding what she had learned of the pike, with Drunken Style Spear. He was somewhat taken aback, and at the end, after pinning her to the ground again, he retracted his pike and stood looking at her pensively. She waited silently. "What was that you were just doing? Durhan did not teach you that."

"No, Na. It is called Drunken Style. I learned it on Earth."

He snorted, but continued looking pensive. With its fakes, unusual rhythms and off-set angles, it had completely thrown him off his guard, at first. Innovative. Perhaps he would check into this 'Drunken Style'. "Before you incorporate a mix of things into your fighting, you must be adept at the basic level at which you are taught. Master what Durhan has taught you, everything else later."

As he began to instruct her, another warrior entered, a tall man with a manicured goatee and the uniform of a high-ranking officer. "Kai!" _End match._ He broke off and saluted the newcomer formally. "Shai Alyt."

She stood stock-still behind Neroon, and gazed at her feet, listening. But the two men spoke in tones too low for her to hear. She could feel the man's eyes on her, beady and penetrating. Neroon never introduced her, and she wasn't disappointed. There was something unpleasant about the general. Avarice leaked from him like trickles of oil.

Neroon returned. "Training is concluded for the day. You are free to go for now, but I

suggest that you practice your forms so that you do not spend the entire day on the ground tomorrow." He left quickly with the general. Havah watched the taller man's back.

"Yes, you would do well to watch him, little Changeling." Felshenn came in and leaned against the wall. "But you had better not let him catch your eyes upon him."

Havah just stared at him coldly. "Why not?"

"Because it is disrespectful, and he is not as lenient as your father about such things."

Havah rolled her eyes. "No, I know that. I mean, why would I want to watch him? What made you say that?"

He shrugged and scuffed his boot against the floor, looking up at her with sharp eyes. "No particular reason. Only that he is a very powerful man, a senior general."

"I've seen generals before." She turned away from him and began cycling through her pike forms.

She heard a soft whisper of metal and Felshenn stood at the edge of the mat with his pike extended and an arrogant smile. "Are you ready?"

"For what? I'm not interested in fighting you." She ignored him.

He leaned on the staff. "You are supposed to practice."

"I am."

"You should also practice sparring with it. Especially, if one was to judge by the Alyt's words."

"Did Alyt Neroon ask you to take over my training?"

"No, he did not need to. I wish to fight."

"Well you can wish all you want. Unless he put you in charge, I'm doing what he tells me." She returned angrily to her forms, concentration now broken.

He looked genuinely perplexed, as he retracted the pike. "What have I done to anger you now?"

"Like you care?"

He frowned. "Whatever my opinion of you or other Humans, I do not make it a practice of offending people for the sake of offending them!"

She stopped, turned and looked at him, and then planted one end of the pike on the ground. "I know who the Changelings are now, the Kal'tot. I know what you're calling me."

He hid a smile and sighed, looking down and then back at her. "I do not mean it to offend you. It is not meant maliciously…anymore."

"Yes. It is. And it only failed to offend me when I was too ignorant to know what it meant!"

"Well, then I apologize for the offense." He was annoyed. They had traveled a great way to retrieve this woman, from her own government! He had actually been concerned about her dying, and now she was grousing about a religious legend!

She nodded her head slightly, and went back to practicing. He started to leave and then watched her. Her movements were short and jerky. She had lost focus. She stopped and sat down on the floor for a moment and put her head down, rubbing her lame arm through the uniform and pulling off the glove, the scars on her wrist livid against her dark skin. Something about the sight of her resignation made him go back to pick at the wound. He wanted to engage her in a fight, or get her moving again somehow. "What do you want to hear, Chang—, Human? I apologized for offending your delicate sensibilities! Or is that not enough? Did you think I would crumble, like the religious caste and beg your forgiveness for being rude? I'm not a simpering priest, Human! I'm a villainous warrior who tried to kill off your poor helpless race, remember? Do you suppose we don't know what is said of _us_?"

She just looked up and glared at him, saying nothing. She shook her head, rose, and brushed past him to leave.

_We're not finished yet, little Human!_ "How typical! How like a Human to start a dispute and then run away and attempt to hide!"

She whirled. "Oh yes, and you are such an expert about Human behavior! And I didn't start this, you did!"

"I fought you during the War. That is a fine way to judge an enemy. You learn the most about a person by his actions in battle."

"Really." She drawled. "So if you want to get to know someone, the best way is to pick a fight with them. Fabulous! How enlightened."

"That is not…that is not what I meant! I merely meant that one's actions speak most loudly in times of pressure, when honor is challenged!"

She cocked her head. "Did my father teach you to talk like that? You sound just like him!"

"Your father is doing you a great service, greater than anyone else would have! I have seen enough Human behavior to know that my assessment is appropriate."

"When?" Ignoring his insult, she peered at him.

"What?"

"WHEN? When have you seen Human behavior outside a war in which you _were_ unequivocally trying to extinguish my entire race? When have you ever bothered to spend enough time with Humans to form any opinion that wasn't already planted in you by other Minbari? Have you secretly been sneaking off to Babylon 5 to play Bingo games? Taking hikes with cub scouts? Renting Human hookers? When?"

He had no idea what cub scouts or Bingo games were. Or hookers. They sounded like a torture device. And then he realized that she was right. He really knew very little about Human customs, or Human habits, or Human emotions. They baffled him, and this woman, more so than any. The echoes of her, delirious, breathing out the vapors of a dark dying world, were vivid. He shifted. "I have not spent a great deal of time with Humans, no. Perhaps I will investigate further."

"How magnanimous."

He blithely ignored the sarcasm. "You were called a Changeling because of what the religious caste said of you. Delusions of grandeur are dangerous, as they will soon find. It would not be wise for you take to heart what they believe."

"And that is?" She stood hands on her hips.

He smirked. "That you have a Minbari soul."

Havah wanted to tear her hair and scratch her own eyes out. Instead she just nodded her head in awe. And then let him have it. She was done with diplomacy. He picked now to be chatty, so that was how it was going to be! As she stared at him, all of the resentment she had been building up against Neroon, all of the vitriol which she was powerless to spit back at her father, flooded into her vision and looked exactly like Felshenn. In his black gloves and prim uniform, he was the culmination of everything racist and insulting about the Minbari. "You sanctimonious prig! You ethnocentric, self-inflated wanker…Do you honestly think that I believe any of that hogwash?"

_What! Why is having a Minbari soul such an insult! How dare she! _She had used a string of terms he didn't understand, except for 'self-inflated', but it didn't take a linguist to identify the intent. "Minbari heritage should make you proud! Are we so hateful to you?"

"No." She deflated. "It's just…"

He waited, saying nothing.

"Why did you surrender?" Dangerous ground.

"We were ordered to by the Religious Caste!"

"Ok, so why did the Religious Caste order it?"

"They determined that some Humans had Minbari souls."

"And so why did that stop you?"

"Because Minbari do not kill Minbari! I understand that the Humans do not have this law, but the Minbari do!"

"That's just it, Felshenn! Your dismissal of Humanity at large is so ingrained that you don't even notice! Or maybe you do. I'm supposed to be proud because I have a Minbari soul, and it never even occurred to you that I might be equally proud to have a Human soul. Why? Because it never occurred to you that souls don't have to be Minbari to have value! You couldn't just stop the war because we _had_ souls, that wasn't enough! They had to be the reflection of something that you thought you recognized in order to count! So the only thing that kept you from committing genocide had to be justified by making us more like you! We're not like you! We'll never be like you, and how dare you assume that we have to take on your culture to be worth something! There are things in my race that I'm not proud of, but we don't need your approval to exist! Tell me, what made them think that we had Minbari souls? That triangle artifact? Or was it that we have some commonalities?"

He bristled at her diatribe. "I suppose that there were occasions on which Humans displayed similar honor, similar capacities. I was not aware of the triluminary's involvement."

"So no one else in the galaxy can possess those capacities but the Minbari. The rest of the galaxy is just a barbaric cesspool, is that it? The Minbari have cornered the market on any and all positive qualities, is that it? Honor, integrity and all that jazz can't possibly be Human qualities, too!"

"That's absurd! No one implied this—"

"YES THEY DID! Maybe not intentionally, but whether or not you meant to imply that, or simply didn't think about what you really felt towards us or any other non-Minbari, it is exactly what you do imply when you refuse to accept our decency on Human terms, when you have to rely on an image of yourselves to find us worthy of life!" She was trembling with anger. It was naked on her face.

"I will not call you a changeling anymore."

She sighed and stared at him. That was as good as it was going to get. "Thank you." She flipped up her pike. "Are you ready?" _I'm gonna smack you down, you pompous shit! _

"Always!" He began trying to circle her, swinging the pike to catch the backs of her knees. She leapt, rolled and came up, following the pike along the momentum of her body, to swing at the backs of his knees. But he dodged back, and trapped her pike against the ground with his and thrust up towards her face. She leapt back, and they began circling one another again. "I thought that Durhan taught you?"

She grimaced and growled. "Kiss my Human ass!"

Neroon drilled her through form after form, and then sparred with her every day, from first light to dusk for weeks, until her entire body was black and blue. Finally, after a particularly painful and brutal match, he stood over her, watching carefully as she climbed crankily to her feet. "Better." Was all he said.

The following few weeks were dedicated to learning weapons not taught at the Anla Shok compound. The ti'kal—the triple hand spikes, the shu'rinn—a long curved sword, the gok'zhan—a chain with an elongated dart on the end. These were specialized weapons of the warrior caste. The Star Riders were known for their skill with the sword and chain dart. Although she gained lacerations on top of the hematomas she had collected, there were not as many as Havah expected. The shu'rinn was like a cross between a Chinese broad-sword and straight-sword, an elegant weapon. And the gok'zhan was similar to a Chinese chain whip, which Havah had taken great pains to learn, in form, at her old school, with a thick pad on the end, for the numerous times she had whacked herself in the head trying to accomplish the neck spins correctly.

This weapon though, had no pad, which was fine, until she tried to actually spar with it. After a very long few weeks, she lay with her head on another ice pack, wishing that she had a head-bone, having hit herself dozens more times than she had hit Neroon. His exasperation was palpable, and towards the end, she was both almost relieved and afraid that he was going to abandon training her. But he continued to drill her, until she no longer flogged herself as regularly with the chain-dart.

At the end of that training period, he inspected her posture, and said acidly. "Your etiquette is a shame to this clan. That must be remedied immediately."

He peered at her again. These had been a long hard few months. Her wrist still ached, but the rehabilitation had been successful. He had kept her moving too fast to think or worry about it, and she had pushed the tissues just enough to respond without causing further damage. She saw only the shape of his boots as she kept her eyes down, and grudgingly admitted to herself, that despite his constant criticism, he had been a good teacher, whatever his motivations had been. He hadn't had to do this at all, spend a few months of his undoubtedly busy schedule to train a _human_, whether or not she was related to him.

His voice was still commanding but not as harsh as it had been. "You will learn the proper bow, address, and response to the proper stations, if it is the last act I perform in the service of the Minbari."

She stifled a smile, certain that he would pounce on her lapse of composure.

But instead, he cracked a ghost of a smirk. "Yes, you understand exactly what I am talking about, don't you. Your Human upbringing has been far too casual, which may be acceptable on Earth, since there seems to be no discernable structure to the society, but that chaos is not acceptable here." He nodded and continued. "Your lessons will begin tomorrow. Following that, you will serve a term aboard a Minbari war cruiser. All members of the Star Riders clan are required to do so."

She reacted then, looking at him with alarm. But he held up his hand and continued. "I am aware of your duties to the Entilzah, so the term will be divided as your other duties allow. It is also a test of your training. The Entilzah has been informed of this, and has agreed in order to allow you to remain as his executive officer. The officers of the Yanazha, the ship on which you will serve, have also been notified. Rest, and prepare yourself for tomorrow." He dismissed her and left.

She felt the bright ribbons of panic rise in her throat. A Minbari warship? With hundreds of Minbari soldiers, many of whom probably still wanted to kill her, or at least didn't like Humans. _Maybe he really is trying to kill me, _she thought desolately, wondering if shaving her head would help. Probably not, since she had no head-bone, she would just look even stranger. Feeling suddenly like a kid in elementary school, dreading class and the bully waiting to take her lunch money, she peeled off her uniform and went to bed.

"Show me the proper bow to someone of higher station in the Worker Caste."

She curled her right hand into a fist, touching the back of it to her open extended left palm, and bowed.

"NO! Wrong hand! The right fist indicates that you are saluting someone in the warrior caste! The extended palm indicates worker caste, but it must be with the right hand! The fist indicates that someone from the warrior caste is involved in the communication, but which hand it is indicates who is communicating. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Na."

"Good. Show me the proper bow for someone in the warrior caste to someone of higher station in the worker caste."

She made her right hand into a fist before she realized she was repeating herself and mixing up her right and left hands again.

"NO! In Valen's name, shall I mark your hands 'left' and 'right'? LEFT HAND!"

She corrected herself and bowed carefully.

"Good! Again!"

She did it again, and again a few more times.

"Now, as someone from the warrior caste to someone of higher station in the religious caste!" He managed to keep most of the sneer out of his voice as he said 'religious caste'.

She made her _left_ hand into a fist the first time finally, and placed it, knuckles first, against her right open palm, identical to the warrior caste salute, except with the hands reversed.

"Correct. Your time around them has taught you that at least."

After four hours, he was finding gaps in her awareness of everything. She had re-learned the proper address towards every possible combination of people in Minbari society, after apparently having forgotten details in a most _Human_ manner.

One did not bow exactly to someone from a lower station, merely inclined the head slightly, if in an informal setting. In an extremely informal setting, two persons greeting could choose to ignore those addresses in favor of a greeting for close friends, placing the hand above the other's heart and mutually bowing to the same depth and duration, even touching foreheads. In a formal setting, however, the proper hand motions were always made to indicate the caste of the person initiating and the caste of the person responding. The fist always indicated martial capacity, the open hand indicated knowledge. The religious caste had developed certain fighting systems, but their primary focus was on the collection of wisdom and knowledge of spiritual things, so while the address between members of the religious caste consisted of steepled fingers thumbs up, to indicate humility and prayer, the address from the warrior caste to one of the religious caste acknowledged both their spiritual capacity indicated by the open hand with fingers towards the heavens, and their ties to the martial arts, indicated by the fist. The address from the warrior caste to one of the worker caste contained another open hand, indicating knowledge, but instead of pointing up, it was extended to indicate that it concerned matters of the planet and structure of Minbar itself. It was dizzying, and put Havah in mind of feudal Japan. She had a feeling that Neroon would have related well to samurai society.

At the end of the day, he paused and then broached the subject that he had put off until the last possible moment. "We must talk about your relations with Human males. It is not appropriate for you to continue in these relations."

Havah abandoned all hope of keeping her eyes downcast and her tone respectful. "Excuse me?"

He focused on her breach in conduct to distract himself from the unique discomfort this topic brought him. "I am not one of your _Human_ comrades! You will address me properly—"

"No! No, no. As soon as you started talking about my 'relations with Humanmales', you started talking about sex. And as soon as you started talking about sex, it became a horrible freaky talk between father and daughter, not between two soldiers!"

"We must speak of this! Parents must speak of these things with their children, so that they do not act inappropriately and so that they select mates who are beneficial for their clans and for the people."

"And what about for the two individuals involved? I thought that arranged matches were no longer practiced?"

"They are not. But you cannot select anyone you wish, particularly not outside accepted lines."

"Outside accepted lines? What the hell does that mean? You mean Human? Father…look at me!" She grabbed a handful of hair. "I'm half Human, whether you like that or not, and they are still my people too. So, in my particular case, what makes them 'outside accepted lines'?"

He repressed a heavy sigh. She was right, how could he forbid her to mate with the people who had given her a home for her entire life, when he himself had mated with a Human. This conundrum would not exist at all if it were not for his encounter thirty-two years ago. "You are also a Star Rider. As you know, what happened was an accident, and it has caused enough problems without compounding the error again."

"That problem being me."

"That's not…" He gritted his teeth, drew in a deep breath and ignored the comment. "It is more important for your Minbari blood to stay within the Minbari than it is to prevent your Human blood from being infused into ours. That cannot be avoided now. And you are an adult, of the warrior caste. You cannot in reality be expected to remain celibate for the rest of your life. I am to make certain that when you choose a mate, or lover, he should be an appropriate match."

Havah blinked. "I'm not having this conversation."

"What? You do not understand the importance of this! Why do you resist?"

"Because some cultures of Humans have a thing called privacy, and a very strong aversion to talking about sex, especially between parents and children."

"That is irrational. It is a topic that all families must address, since it is the mechanism by which they become families! And I did not witness this aversion to talking about sex among your Human pilots aboard Babylon 5. Human females and the male desire to rut, seemed to be all they talked about! It is no mystery now why they performed so poorly on the Line!"

Havah blinked again. "I'm not _having_ this conversation." She repeated, and turned to leave without being dismissed. The next move was going to be to plug her fingers in her ears and hum. He shifted his weight and began to speak, but she threw up one hand, refused to look at him and hurried out the door. "No!"

She closed the door to Sinclair's office, and leaned against it. He looked up, eyes twinkling. "So, how are things going?" He beamed at her.

She paused. "They were going swimmingly, compared to what I expected, right up until he tried to talk to me about my 'relations with Human males'!"

He burst into laughter, trying, after a hearty glare from her, to muffle it by clearing his throat.

"I'm glad my revulsion is such a fantastic source of amusement to you!"

He started laughing again quietly. "Oh, come on, don't you think you're over-reacting a little. He's your father! Of course this is going to be a concern."

"Fine, but do we really have to talk about it? Why can't we just be like zillions of other Human families and repress it, sweep it into the back bedroom and pretend it doesn't exist? I'm all for that! And I know the Minbari are spectacular at that, look at the Grey Council!"

"Be nice!" He smiled.

"I am being nice, but it's true. And I am not over-reacting! I understand serving in the Minbari military for a term. That makes sense, I can dig it…even though I'm sure that I'm going to wind up stuffed in somebody's locker. But I am not putting up with his trying to control who I sleep with because he's afraid of polluting the pure Minbari race! Absolutely out of the question! How does he even know about my 'relations with Human males'?…No, you know what, I don't even want to know. Better that I shouldn't know! The bottom line is that he's not mixing in! I have a hard enough time getting a date without—"

At this, Sinclair burst into uncontrollable laughter again. Havah just put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. "—Without having him hovering behind my prospective boyfriends, cleaning his denn bok and threatening to space them if they try to hold my hand!"

He had considerably more trouble getting his snickers under control this time, and he said, eyes still watery, "I don't know about that. I knew dozens of pilots who would have followed you everywhere if they thought you'd have gone out with them."

"Yeah, until they found out that I was half-Minbari, or even half-alien. And they were all arrogant as hell! See, I don't know what he's talking about, I'm selective! He acts like I'm chasing down and mounting every Human male from here to the Rim!"

He collapsed into quiet laughter again, squeezing his eyes at the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure that's not quite what he said."

She plopped herself into a chair and leaned across the desk, emphasizing with her hands. "Not in so many words!…Would he prefer that I should go for Human women? There's no chance there of sullying the warrior caste genetics! I tried it in college. I think his head would explode if I told him that." She spat sarcastically.

"I think you know the answer to that one, and I still think you're over-reacting."

"Well, how would you react if he told you to stop having relations with men…ok women, whatever, with your own people because of some racist notion that has already been turned on its head by something that HE did, willingly or unwillingly?"

"I know, I know. This is a difficult situation, Havah. You know the Minbari are insular. He feels he has a claim to you. And I know that deep down, you want that too, or you wouldn't be here. But you have to remember the world that he has lived in his whole life. All things considered, he's been very progressive. And he is who he is. You want to be accepted for who you are, but you have to do the same, and remember how hard this is for him."

Havah sighed in exasperation and hung her head. "…Yeah…I know. I just…I'm thirty-two. My own parents, I mean my Human parents never talked about it, and I admit fully that I'm totally repressed about stuff like that and so I was just a little caught off guard…I guess I'll go…apologize…" She said that last word in a mumble. "He's so damn persistent! I know he'll hunt me down again and tie me to a chair until I listen anyway, and I am not experiencing _that_ surreal conversation again."

Sinclair grinned and laughed. "Very good. Good luck. Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah, sorry you had to talk me down off the ceiling."

"What are friends for." He smiled.

Suddenly Havah was overwhelmed by a wave of sadness, while looking at him. There was an inexplicable sense around him that he was fading in time, as if he was becoming less and less…here. She shook it off and went to find Neroon.

There was a soft knock. Alyt Neroon looked up from his stack of reports to the sight of his recalcitrant daughter standing awkwardly in the entrance. He drew himself up to his full height, and gave her a good scathing look. "Enter."

She walked in, fixing her eyes on the floor and began to mumble, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic.

"I cannot hear you! Stand up properly and speak like the soldier you are!"

She lifted her head, staring proudly at the wall in front of her and said clearly. "I came to…apologize for the row earlier. I acted immaturely." She sighed and chanced a cautious look at him. "I guess I was just surprised. Humans…the way I…never mind. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for reacting so badly. And…" She fidgeted some more, her face turning scarlet, "I'm not really thinking of…selecting a mate…or lover…anytime soon. If that changes…I'll…I'll let you know and then we can…talk again. I'm not making any promises!" She held up her hand. "But I won't freak out and I will consider your opinion. Ok?" She looked at her feet again.

He was silent, his eyes boring into her. As she stood, looking down in a hard-won gesture of respect, she looked very young to him. He had a brief glimpse of what she must have looked like as little girl, and resisted the sudden urge to touch her hair. In truth, he was more than a little nervous about her impending term on the Yanazha. It would be humiliating for both of them if she did not pass. After the painstaking time he had just spent preparing her, she had better pass! But he wondered, with a needle of concern that he brushed away, if she would be alright. Many of the warriors were still enraged about the war, and actively hated Humans. The Yanazha was one of the mildest in collective sentiment that he could think of for now, but the anger was still there. She could not hide her Humanity here. And many of their caste still remembered her from Proxima Three. Neroon's name may not be sufficient to stop them. Still…she had defended herself well in Yedor, when she and a religious caste woman had been attacked. _She must fare as she will._ "I suppose, it will have to do for now. " He said softly. "Dismissed."

Neroon was engaged in caste matters with the Shai Alyt, the following day, as Felshenn informed her, when he came to drill Havah on disassembling and reassembling her pulse rifle. This coincided with the arrival of two visitors, Katani and Nohri. Felshenn nodded briskly that Havah had a couple of hours, and then they had to leave. Katani looked him up and down before inclining her head slightly. He watched her from the door for a minute before disappearing. Nohri wrapped her arms around Havah's waist and buried her face in her jerkin, grinning. At four years old, she came up to Havah's navel. Katani beamed, looking Havah up and down, taking in the uniform with a ghost of a frown, and then extended her hand to Havah's heart and bowed deeply. "Since you are too busy to visit us, we will come to you."

Havah felt a strong twinge of guilt. "Katani, I'm sorry. Things have been kind of insane. The last time, I only had time to drop off information and leave. And this time, I was kind of out of it when they brought me here, and then my father—"

"No need to explain. I understand fully. I had heard that you were near death when you returned. We tried to see you then, but were not allowed in. I am glad to see that you are well now. I had heard that your father was very worried, and Entilzah Sinclair. It was he who told me what had happened. And now…they are training you as a Star Rider! It will be very good for your recovery I think. But how are you?" She peered at Havah's face, noting the lines of exhaustion.

"Uh, tired." She kept hugging Nohri, feeling slightly more relaxed. "It's been interesting getting to know my dad. It's a very different world that he lives in. We've had a few spats, but things could be worse."

"Yes, I imagine so. And the others? Are they treating you well?"

"I haven't had contact really with anyone but Felshenn, Neroon's aide. He's alright. More than a little arrogant, but I think once you get past that, he's not a bad guy. I think that he picks arguments with me because he's curious. But God-forbid a Minbari warrior admit that he's curious about Humans."

Katani just smiled.

"There was this other dude too. I never met him, but I saw him talking to my dad. He's a Shai Alyt. He's got a goatee, sandy colored, kind of tall. He's got an under-bite too. Do you know who I'm talking about? Have you ever seen him?"

"Shai Alyt Shakiri. Yes. I have seen him. He is well known, although he became Shai Alyt recently." Her face darkened.

"Do you know anything about him? Felshenn mentioned him too. I was watching him, and Felshenn said the strangest thing. He said 'You would do well to watch him.' I asked him what he meant, and he said only that he is very powerful, because he is a general. But I don't think that is what he was talking about. I got the oddest notion that he was trying to tell me something about him, without doing so openly."

"He may have been, although I am very surprised that a warrior would have done so. But he is right. Shakiri…I believe that Shakiri is a very dangerous man. The fact that he is now a Shai Alyt makes him doubly so, but he has always been someone to watch, in my opinion. I am surprised that your father is becoming close to him."

"Why?"

Katani fidgeted, looking down, and then at Havah with intensity. "Your father, whatever I feel about the warrior caste, is an honorable man. He is a ferocious political opponent whose views are quite different than mine. But his views come from a deep-seated concern for Minbar, and for our people. He focuses on the welfare of the warriors because he is one, and that is the life he knows and can relate to. But he is Minbari to the core, and thinks little of his own glory, except about how it might further his clan and caste. That is a limited view, but comes from the right place. It comes from a pure loyalty. Shakiri…I do not believe to be such a man. He is good at appearances. I hope that your father knows Shakiri well. Neroon does not seem to believe that anyone in the warrior caste can be deceiving. I hope that he is right."

That was the most enigmatic answer she had ever heard from Katani.

She continued. "It is possible that he is trying to 'mend old fences'?"

Havah looked puzzled.

"That is your term for fixing past bad relationships. Shakiri is from the Wind Swords clan. The two clans have never gotten along very well, although there have been no hostilities since Valen formed the Grey Council. Now that the Council has been broken, there was a concern that the old hostilities would surface again. And they certainly are between the religious and the warrior castes. But your father has been working very hard to ensure that the warrior clans do not fight amongst themselves, now that the Council no longer binds them." Katani looked at Havah mournfully, and then shook her head and waved her hands, putting them to her face shamefully. "Havah dear, I am so sorry. We came here to visit you and tell you of our wonderful trip to Babylon 5, and instead I bundled all our concerns onto you. As soon as I saw your father's aide, I reacted and drew away into my worries again, and I should not have. We came to see you because we miss you very much, and such time should not be spent in melancholy, especially after what you have been through! I know Earth is going through similar concerns now. We had intended to visit Earth, but it is no longer safe for my kind, and perhaps not for many Humans either."

Havah put her arm around Katani. "It's ok. I do understand. Things are pretty tense for everyone right now. I'm sorry you didn't get to see Earth. Where were you going to go?"

"An island called Fiji, and another island called New Zealand, and the Easter Island. I had heard that there are giant heads carved of stone."

"They're pretty spectacular."

"But Babylon 5 was fascinating! I had never been to such a station. There were so many different aliens there! I have never seen so many different races! It was wonderful. One could get anything there. I played a game called blackjack. It was very simple, so I tried 'poker.' I do not like that game. I do not have what they called a 'poker face'." She laughed. "The slot machines were interesting. One puts money into them, and probability allows you to either acquire more money, or lose your money for no return service. And people continued to pour coins into them. I think that they did not understand how the machines worked. They were playing against probability."

"Exactly. That's what the casino owners count on."

She shook her head, smiling. "The food was very good. Nohri had ice cream, a Human food. I could hardly get her to eat anything else. And she picked up some wonderful Human children's books! Nohri, show Havah what we bought!"

Nohri ran out of the room to their flyer and brought back Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein, slid into Havah's lap, opened the books and started reciting. "There's a polar bear in my frigidaire…" She put her finger on the picture of the polar bear, and Havah remembered that Nohri had never seen either a polar bear or a twentieth century refrigerator. Havah read through most of the poems, stopping to explain some of the Human references, like what ham was, and that it and eggs weren't normally green. After a while, Nohri closed the book, took it from Havah, whacked both of her hands onto Havah's jerkin and yelled, "One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish…TAG!" and darted away down the hall. Katani grinned. "She got to play with some Human and Narn children, and learned a game called 'tag'. It is just like what we used to play when I was a child, but she has gotten all of the children in the flat to yell 'Tag!' instead. Havah nodded slowly and pretended not to see Nohri getting brave and approaching, and then she raised her arms, roared, and chased her as Nohri shrieked.

They barreled off down the hall, careening around corners, and even smacked into a worker on his way to an office. Havah apologized profusely, trying to stifle giggles, more successfully than Nohri was doing. He just brushed off the front of his tunic, smiled tolerantly and went on his way. Havah pulled Nohri over to her and knuckled the top of her head. "I can't believe how big you are, you're all grown up!"

Havah grabbed Nohri by the waist and swung her into the air and around and around, while Nohri cackled and shrieked. "Tag, you're it! I got you!" They landed in the grass and Havah sneezed, with Nohri tackling her. She pushed Nohri's head away from her and held her at arm's length with her hand on the girl's forehead, and laughed while Nohri giggled and swung her shorter arms, trying futilely to tag Havah. Time blinked and Kuraal grinned at Havah with her pudgy cheeks, baby teeth, and restless energy.

Nohri slowed and looked thoughtful and then stopped, sitting down next to Havah. "Is that why you are sad?"

Havah glanced at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Because you miss the other little girl? Are you her mother?"

Havah watched her with a chill. Nohri had been there when she dreamed about Kuraal, and she had thought the family had heard her talking in her sleep. But she had said nothing this time.

"My God, you're a telepath."

Nohri looked hurt and shrunk away from Havah, as Havah remembered that the girl could and was reading her thoughts and emotions. And Havah's first reaction, after her experience with Psi Corps, was dread and revulsion. Whatever her talents, Nohri was like any other four-year old. Her voice wavered and her lip trembled. "I…I heard you, I felt you and I didn't want you to be sad like you were a long time ago. I…" She started to cry. "Please don't go away. I…" She said through sobs.

"No, no! I'm not going anywhere, sweetie! Nohri, I'm so sorry!" Havah scooped her up into a bear hug and held her while the little girl sobbed into her tunic. She felt like the biggest heel in the universe. Nohri was the farthest anyone could get from the black-gloved, jack-booted Psi cops. _How could I have been such an insensitive ass!_ _I've been so wrapped up in myself that I forgot that other people have been through a lot too. _

Havah kissed Nohri on the top of the head. The girl's sobs had quieted to a whimper and then to sniffles. She rested her head against the shoulder of Havah's jerkin. Havah pulled Nohri's thumb out of her mouth and lifted Nohri's chin. "Hey. I'm not going anywhere, OK? At least not because of you. You were one of my first friends here, you know that?"

Nohri sniffed again and nodded, sticking her thumb back in her mouth.

"Don't do that, or your mother will have a fit."

Nohri smiled and laughed, sucking harder.

"So, last year, when you climbed into bed with me, you saw what I dreamed?"

Nohri shook her head.

"So how did you know? How long have you been able to see people's thoughts?"

"Um…I could feel you. I felt you dreaming. Or, well, I could see things, but they were all a big jumble all the time, so I mostly kept everything out and made quiet. I can see things better now."

"Oh. Is Katani a telepath too? Can she read thoughts?"

"No, but I can talk to her in her mind when I want to. She's taking me to school soon, with other people like me. I think the teachers wanted me to go sooner, but she didn't want to take me. She is sad because she will miss me."

"I bet."

"But she's letting me go now because they are worried about what I will hear at night. They worry a lot at night because they think that I'm asleep. That's when they talk about the Council, and about the military. And about…the Shadows." Nohri ended in a whisper and gazed at her. "Are they really going to come back? The warriors are very angry. I can feel them, especially around my mother. She is angry too. Are they going to hurt us?"

"No. I don't think so, honey, there are laws against that, with or without the Grey Council."

"Why are they so angry? Mother thinks they are out of control and that they have lost faith in our people."

Havah stared at Nohri. _It's so easy to forget that kids aren't little dummies, just because they don't have as complex a vocabulary_, she thought. _Katani knows now. That's why she's taking her to the Telepath's Guild._ "That's…well, I can't speak for the warrior caste, but I think they feel as though their sacrifices have been ignored. I think they feel used. They went through a lot in the last war, and ten years isn't that long a time. And now, they have been accused, by Delenn, of refusing to serve in a time of need. For them, that's a very serious accusation, especially after they have already gone through so much and not been recognized for it."

"But mother thinks that people shouldn't serve in order to receive recognition."

_She doesn't have the frame of reference yet, _Havah thought uncomfortably. _This is the critical age. This is the mechanism by which all our biases are passed on and cemented, and our world-view solidified. This is where the cycle begins, whether they are religious, warrior, or worker._ "It's not that simple. Understand that I am not contradicting your mother. She is absolutely right. The hunt for recognition and glory shouldn't be the driving reason to do anything. But there is also a part of all of us that needs to know that we are appreciated, and that our actions have meant something to someone else. Do you understand?"

Nohri nodded.

"Also remember that the religious caste has had many years to think about things, about philosophy and prophecy and what should be done about it. They have the luxury of asking those questions. The warriors do not. When they are called out, it almost always means that they will face violence, and possible disability or death. Many people in the religious caste are very wise, but they are also sheltered in temples. And it may be that even when they are right about what actions should be taken, they have forgotten that things look very different when you have to face the possibility of violence every day. It is the difference between an idea and an action. The warrior caste do everything they can to protect people, including training all the time, but they may feel that their judgment is being questioned."

Nohri popped her thumb out of her mouth. "People say that the warrior caste fears nothing, but I feel them. Some of them are afraid."

"Of course they are, honey. People who are fearless all the time are either idiots or have nothing to lose. Are you afraid sometimes?"

Nohri nodded. "Mother and Father are afraid too."

"Well, the warriors are just like you. They have kids at home that they worry about, and brothers and sisters. But they are trained to fight if they have to, and they will. That doesn't mean that they can't be afraid. It's just that they'll fight anyway. That's what makes them brave, and why it hurts when someone doesn't believe in them."

"Oh." She said thoughtfully. Her bright hazel eyes fixed on Havah's face again. "Are all Humans afraid of telepaths?"

_No easy questions today. Can't you just ask me where babies come from?_ "No. I don't think so, although many are. We shouldn't be, it's just that we don't understand them very well, and we are afraid of people knowing our thoughts. Humans are very private."

"Is it because of the bad men, the ones who hurt you?"

"Well, that's why I reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry. But that's not entirely why people are afraid of them. They were afraid of telepaths before those men were born. They're not really bad men, honey, or at least if they are, we made them bad. We don't treat telepaths very well on my world, and sometimes when you treat someone bad, they become what you think of them. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Well, because a lot of times the way we look at ourselves is made up from the way we think other people see us. So when someone sees us badly, we start to feel badly, and then we think they are right, and so we'll act that way because we feel bad."

"Oh." She stuck her thumb back in her mouth for a moment and then looked at Havah carefully. "Are the Shadows really coming? It is true?"

Nohri knew the answer before Havah could speak, and her eyes widened. Havah couldn't back out of this one, and sighed. "They're already here, honey. Not on Minbar. But, yes, they are back."

Nohri curled up slightly.

"We're going to fight them, sweetie. We'll work this out, ok? You need to focus on your new teachers, and not worry about it. That's for the adults to deal with."

"It is for other adults to deal with presently, not you. You are to return to your training now. It is time for your visitors to leave." Felshenn interjected behind her.

"Do you always intrude on private conversations? I thought Minbari were cautious about such rudeness!"

"Rudeness is not a concern when following orders."

Nohri glanced from Havah to Felshenn, and then gave a small smile, and headed into the compound to her mother. Havah and Felshenn were close behind.

"Havah, the time has been too short! We will visit again soon, as your schedule permits!" Katani cast a reproachful glance at Felshenn, who ignored it. "There is a Human saying, yes? 'If Mohammed does not go to the mountain, the mountain will walk to where Mohammed is?'"

Havah laughed. "Yes, something like that."

They hugged, and Havah gave Nohri a big sloppy kiss, which she wiped off with the back of her chubby hand. "Ewww!"

Havah laughed, and Katani exclaimed, "Nohri, how rude! Honestly!"

Havah grinned and winked at Nohri. As they left, with Nohri's hand in Katani's, the girl was looking at Felshenn curiously, as if trying to sort something out. He walked them all the way out.

After they were gone, he handed Havah a pulse rifle, and they sat, taking the rifles apart. He watched her to determine her proficiency. As they were inspecting the components, he said, "Thank you." He kept his eyes on Havah's gun.

"For what?"

"For what you said." Havah looked at the top of his head and nodded. "Sure," and went back to inspecting her rifle.

Mohan's face floated behind her eyelids at night, along with the Anla Shok who had still not reported in. Havah finally gave up hope of sleeping and lay curled up, going around and around in her head, reviewing their last conversations. _I had no business handing this off to other people. I should have taken Mohan to safe space myself, regardless of what he felt. It could have been someone else in my flat. Someone else could have taken Anlashok Verscheure's pin to make me think it was him._ Her arms and legs felt like lead, when Neroon arrived the next morning to brief her, before beginning her tour on the Yanazha.

He frowned. "You do not look alert. What is wrong with you? Why are you not ready?"

She looked at him, defeated. "You were right about me. About my inability to assist Sinclair or help the Rangers."

He said nothing.

She continued dully. "Two of the Rangers that I sent on missions to escort people to safer space have disappeared, along with the people they were protecting. Four people may have died because of me. I made a mistake. I should have seen to those tasks myself."

He just stared at her. When he spoke, his voice was stern. "It is as I told Sinclair. You have no understanding of command. Or you would not be second-guessing your decisions now. A commander must delegate some tasks and responsibilities to others. There is no other way. And a commander must also accept the possibility of those delegates failing, and dying in the attempt to fulfill the commander's orders! You will never be of use as a commander to Sinclair, or anyone else, unless you accept this and learn to bear it now. Do you understand?"

Havah gazed at him, the imposing uniform, the severe line of his jaw, the flinty eyes. "And it's that easy for you. Just like that." Waiting for people to return rested heavily on her neck, and her dark eyes were hollow.

His tone softened slightly. "No. It is never easy. Nor will it ever be if you are a good commander. But it cannot hobble your decisions. All command, and all service is a matrix of choices. The paths that connect those choices are never made in a vacuum. But the eventualities of those choices are often borne alone." He reached out and touched her arm very briefly. His face hardened again. "Now, make yourself ready, and we will review the rules and regulations of the Yanazha. You will rendevous with them at 0600 hours tomorrow."

27


	23. Chapter 23

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 23—Service

Havah surveyed her reflection disconsolately. They were unlikely to have a supply of shampoo on the Yanazha. She would have to find a way of washing her hair without having to constantly ask for shampoo. Using her regular hand soap would make it quickly unmanageable at this length. She sighed and drew her shurok, since there were no scissors handy, and unpinned her hair, watching it cascade down her back. She began shearing through the long locks. They wafted down in heavy tufts around her boots. When she was done, she gathered it up in huge handfuls and dumped it in the wastebasket, wiped her knife and replaced it in the scabbard. She looked in the mirror with dismay. She had forgotten to wet it down first, and the remains of the shorn locks stuck out higgledy-piggledy in all directions. She groaned, went to the sink and ran water through the spikes, smoothed it back and returned to the mirror. It didn't help much. Now there were just fewer spikes, even more noticeable because of their unevenness protruding from the rest of the sheen of smoothed hair. She drew the knife again and took a piece here and a piece there, and after half an hour, finally gave up. At least there were not likely to be any protocols concerning hair aboard the ship. She undressed and went to bed.

Sleep didn't help the situation any. She was at the mirror again the next morning, trying to pat the unruly mat down, when Felshenn arrived. He stared at her, not taking his eyes off her hair.

"What in Valen's name happened to your head?"

She whirled around, gave him a venomous glare, and stalked past him.

He just stared after her for a moment, stifled a sudden snicker, and looked down at a dark mass in the wastebasket. He knelt and drew out a jet lock that she had wadded up. It unraveled and drifted down across his forearm, shining reddish in the early morning light. It was easily longer than his forearm and the length of his hand. He pulled off one glove and laid it across his palm, holding it to his nose. It smelled like star fruit, and another musky smell underneath. Her smell. He tugged at both ends, in curiosity. It was stronger than it looked, like zyrka silk. The sun shone stronger. It was getting late, and he left, satisfied that she was attending to preparations for departure.

She still wasn't speaking to him, when she returned from Supplies with five work uniforms and one dress uniform, two additional pairs of boots, and toiletries that had been specifically ordered for Human hygiene, not including shampoo.

The Yanazha had docked and was being restocked with supplies while maintenance was being done. It would leave orbit at 800 solar hours that morning. Felshenn led her to the shuttle. He glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye and muffled another laugh. "Why did you do that?"

"It's going to be a little hard to get shampoo on the ship, and I didn't want to attract too much attention by having to ask for it all the time."

"Well, if you're trying to avoid attention, that…hair…style, will not achieve the effect you desire."

"Shut up!"

He shook his head. "I am a higher-ranking officer, and you are about to go on active duty. You will address me as Na, or Narsa, as your father just instructed you!"

_I can think of a few other choice names I'd like to call you!_ She gave him a surly look, and then suppressed a smirk. "Yes, Narsa!"

"You do not sound respectful when you say that.—"

"Don't push your luck! You're going to have to throw me out of the airlock if you want any more…Narsa!"

He turned to look at her. "Is that what you wish?"

Her face looked different without the curtain of hair. The brow ridges were more prominent now, and her face more angular…and more Minbari. Not bad. Her onyx eyes were huge and shadowed.

She looked nervous. "Whatever."

He returned to the control panel. "The Yanazha is a good ship. I know the commander and a number of the officers. You will do well if you remember all that Alyt Neroon taught you."

She didn't reply.

Alyt Neroon met them at the docking bay. His eyes scoured her from head to foot in her new officer's uniform, but finally rested on her head. After the double-take, he exclaimed, "What in Valen's name have you done to your hair?"

"I cut it."

"Why have you done this?"

"It will be easier to take care of on a ship, with no shampoo."

"You look like a scruffy gokh!"

She sighed. "It will grow back. Hair grows back."

"Not a significant improvement."

She rubbed her forehead hard, to ward off the impending headache. If anything could make her look forward to her upcoming tour, this was it. Escaping into space.

"Stand at attention and behave properly! You are no longer in training! Tell me the ranks and how to recognize them!"

"Yes, Alyt! First rank is Shai Alyt. A Shai Alyt can command fleets. Next lower is Alyt, who can assist a Shai Alyt, command a wing, or a ship. Then follows a Shai Narsa, Narsa, similar to an Earth Alliance colonel, Shai Nastat, Nastat, Shai Ranat, and Ranat, which is similar to an Earth Alliance Ensign or Second Lieutenant. These are the officers. They can each be distinguished by the number of studs in the shoulder epaulettes. A Shai Alyt has sixteen, and Alyt has fifteen, all the way down to Ranat, who has nine."

He frowned at the comparison of a Minbari rank to an Earth Alliance, but allowed her to continue.

"The lower ranks consist of Shai Ruca, similar to a Chief Master Sergeant, Ruca, Shai Antal, Antal, similar to a Technical Sergeant, Shai Hanad, Hanad, and Anda, similar to an Airman Basic or Seaman Recruit. They can be distinguished by the number and color of piping along the fold of the shoulder on the overcoat. Three red and three blue for Shai Ruca, three red and two blue for Ruca, three red and one blue for Shai Antal, three red only for Antal, two red for Shai Hanad, one red for Hanad, and none for Anda."

He was silent for a moment, then said carefully. "That is acceptable. But you must remember to recognize them without these comparisons to Earth Force. You are not in Earth Force, and the comparison will not be appreciated. We are not like Humans! If you remember this than you may fare decently without incident."

She looked up at him, breaking her stance. He was worried, masking it well behind the austere line of his mouth. He nodded and left before the commander approached.

The Executive Officer came over, a short barrel-chested man. He and Felshenn saluted one another, and he scanned Havah up and down, stopping momentarily at her hair. He addressed her in clipped Dark Minbari. "You have been instructed on formation marching?"

"Yes, Narsa!" She snapped to attention.

"Good. When Alyt Rennir approaches, you will fall into line after Ranat Kilshinn, with the other Star Riders. Be ready in two hours."

"Yes, Narsa!"

He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, saluted Felshenn and left.

Felshenn turned to her, face unreadable. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Until you return."

She saluted him and went to carry her duffel aboard.

The duty officer handed her a slip with her billet and post, with barely a glance at her or her attention to protocol. As she moved through the halls trying to locate her efficiency quarters, almost every person she passed stared as she went by, some with distaste, some with masked surprise and curiosity. Determined not to stop and ask directions to her own quarters, she wandered through a good portion of the behemoth ship, trying to look as though she knew where she was going. Well, it was a good orientation anyway. She had studied the ship design, and eventually the memory of the blueprint served her, and she found her quarters. It was a single small room with a tilted bed, sewage disposal unit, disinfectant station and sonic shower, waste recycling unit, laundry unit, and a locker. She unpacked her duffel and returned to the docking bay.

She drifted to the side of the bay to watch people coming and going and get a sense of what people were doing, and what she should be doing in the meantime. No one attempted to talk to her, and she saw a flurry of motion at the central entrance to the bay. She exited, to find an assemblage of people organizing. There were nine clan banners being unfurled and raised. She found the Star Riders. They were organizing for a marching entrance. As they lined up, she located a couple of ranats, wondering if they were distant relations to her.

"I am looking for Ranat Kilshinn?"

"I am he. Who are you?" The taller of the two answered, looking at her strangely.

"Havah Lassee." She bowed to him. "I was told to line up behind you."

"Then fall in." He turned as they stepped into formation. She followed him, casting surreptitious glances around her as they entered the bay, and halted after forming nine blocks or battalions, four on one side and five on the other. They were organized according to clan and rank, behind each clan standard held, in this instance, by the highest-ranking member of the clan. In the past, clans had each their own ships, but as clan sizes dwindled or grew, and it became more and more paramount for the clans to work together, the ships became integrated. This switch had been facilitated by Valen, during the time of the Shadows, and this change was maintained and supported by the Grey Council and warrior caste elders. This ceremony was the only significant opportunity on an integrated ship, under normal circumstances, for the clans to display their individuality and clan pride. This situation changed for special events in which clan was prominent, such as a death, or a promotion, in which clan members would be singled out. This opening display also provided the captain, at a quick glance, to know how many of which clans, and which ranks were aboard his vessel, so that inter-clan relations aboard could be well organized and smooth, after consideration of the conflicts of the past.

A slow drum beat and the barrel-chested Narsa appeared and called the troops to attention in a booming voice. The room went rigid and the captain appeared, pacing deliberately through the center aisle between battalions. His brilliant green eyes rested on Havah for a few moments, and then flicked elsewhere. She was standing at the rank of ranat, the most junior of them. Having been given officer training by the Anla Shok and served already, and having been blooded in service to them, she commanded the rank of officer. But since she had never served her mandatory term in the main military branch, she was required to start at the lowest level of officer.

The captain faced the troops and surveyed them as they waited, rigid, eyes cast down as the drum rolled a final tattoo, and dropped into silence. He spoke into the silence. "As we have guarded the Minbari people since the Cold Times, so our duty remains. No harm will come to Her soil or Her sky or Her oceans. No harm will come to those over whose heads and blood we watch. Do you follow me?"

"WE FOLLOW, ALYT RENNIR!" In unison, the entire bay echoed with the ritual response shouted by three thousand voices.

"Our watch begins!" He turned and strode up the gangway and into the ship. The banners were folded carefully, and in formation, the troops filed aboard after him.

Her first watch, in navigation, was interesting, and thankfully, uneventful. Tonight, her assignment was hyperspace navigation, since they had entered hyperspace. The previous navigator watched her curiously as he explained the system and the tasks she was assigned, since she was Human and had obviously never seen such a hyperspace system. She stepped reverently into the hyperspace navigation chamber, the glow of the lights reflecting off the instrumentation, and the soft hum making the air cottony around her, sending little ripples through her hair. At the center of an isolated cooling chamber, an enormous sphere of opaque liquid floated in a gravity field, like a giant undulating pearl. It was a superfluid, composed of Helium-4. The chamber was kept at less than a millionth of a Kelvin, in order to send the liquid below the Lambda point. Speckled throughout the liquid were delicate sensors. In hyperspace, the gravity waves flowing around objects changed the amplitude and shape of the waves according to the shape of the objects. The core of the wave diffraction measurement system, developed by the Wind Swords for hyperspace, had been to discover the behavior of this liquid at a temperature that would allow for zero viscosity. One of the qualities of this lack of viscosity, was that the normal disordered state of the atoms would not interfere with any waves traveling through the liquid. Any wave that hit the liquid would not dissipate or slow, but persist as they occurred in space, indefinitely, allowing the sensors to capture the more accurate amplitude of the gravity waves as they came from hyperspace, and transmit the measurements to the ship's navigational computers. This system was based on the Wind Sword's measurement of the motion of waves in their oceans, and had been the key to the Minbari success in jumping accurately into the Earthers' midst in battle. She just gazed at it in mixed wonder and discomfort, and then proceeded to the computer station to check the previous officer's log. _My GIS professor would drool all over his computer, to be standing where I'm standing right now,_ she thought, satisfied. One by one, she checked the calculations of each measurement against the current readings from the sensor array, and against the readings transmitted to the navigational computer by the signals from the hyperspace buoys. After a half an hour, she checked the first new reading she had taken, against the buoys, and ran hand calculations from the sensor measurements, to double-check the accuracy of the instrumentation. Though it appeared to be on track, she ran a diagnostic of the sensor arrays and of the navigational computer. She repeated these calculations and measurements every half-hour, sending the reports to the central bridge computer. The night passed peacefully with nothing but the math, the hum and glow of the instrumentation, and the motion of a few technicians. At the end of her shift, another ranat appeared promptly to relieve her. He stared at the hair standing on end, but said nothing, as she briefed him on their current position.

As she entered the officer's mess, all heads turned, and she straightened her back and walked the slow mile to the food line. After a moment of isolated snickers and scowls, the conversation picked back up as it had been going. She took a tray silently and sat down in the first empty area she could find. Most of the higher officers took their meals in their chambers, those that had the capacity to have their food more specially prepared. And she wondered if the mess had to-go containers, but something stopped her from asking. It was a chance to watch, or at least listen, since she really had no desire to make eye contact. And no one tried to make any with her. No one spoke to her. She finished her meal, stomach in knots, returned to her quarters, and slept deeply, even on the slanted bed.

The next couple of days were equally uneventful, nights spent in measurement, and meals in her silent island surrounded by the conversation of other officers, and then sleep. The third day, they dropped out of hyperspace into the Kohnari sector. And so her assignment shifted to normal space navigation. The officer she was relieving, cursorily briefed her on the systems, in a tone that indicated that she would be incapable of understanding, and he would have to explain things to the dimwit at least a dozen more times. The systems, however, were virtually identical to Earth Force navigation. One measurement system recorded all travel on a Cartesian x-y-z coordinate map. This map was superimposed on a spherical map marked by latitude and longitude, to measure both position in space, and ship tilt and orientation. Both maps began at galactic center. The ship's location was measured by recording its last known position and calculating speed, time traveled, and charted direction, and checking the new location against buoys and other charted stellar objects. In order to compensate for the motion of all objects in space, the largest, most distant objects, such as quasars, were used as markers, since the variation of their motion would not affect the local measurements to a significant degree. It was an advanced system of dead reckoning. All of this data, including the measurement of the buoys, and of the distant stellar markers were updated every half an hour by central navigational computers located on Minbar, and all Minbari outposts. The ships additionally checked in with these outposts. This system she knew in detail. As a Star Rider, Neroon had made certain that she could perform the calculations in her sleep and with two twigs laced together, if need be. Her measurements had to be impeccable, or she was sure she would never hear the end of it from Neroon, never mind leading them off-course.

After checking the previous officer's measurements, and running diagnostics of the navigational computer, she discovered a crack in one of the sensor crystals. It was not large enough to malfunction completely yet, but it would lead eventually to significant misreadings. She replaced it, and checked the readings again. After another two hours, she checked the crystal bank again, to see how the new crystal was functioning, and found another crack. Investigation revealed a slight power surge coming from the generator that might be causing the destruction of the crystals. She switched the system to the back-up generator, and took this one offline, reporting the problem to the bridge. She called over to one of the technicians to help her take apart the generator. He ignored her, and continued his diagnostics. She looked up after noticing his absence, and went over to him.

He continued to ignore her. He was a hanad, along with a few others. And the others were all observing now, quietly. It was an obvious act of insubordination by a junior crew-member, with other crew-members watching, a direct challenge of her authority as an officer. This had to be addressed immediately and decisively, she realized, at the same time she realized that in her short time as an officer of the Anla Shok, she had never had to face this kind of situation. Unlike Earth Force, Minbari military were permitted, especially in instances of insubordination and mutiny to use fairly harsh corporal punishment and force, but she had a feeling that this was exactly the response he was hoping for, either that or a display of weakness in doing nothing. What options were left? The Minbari were very sensitive to shame and dishonor. They prided themselves on service to their entire people. She straightened herself and affected the clipped tone she had seen her father take, with as little of her Human accent as she could manage. "Are you having difficulty in saluting and in performing your assigned tasks, hanad?"

He looked her straight in the eyes, another direct challenge, and spoke snidely. "I do not respond to Human mongrels, only to officers."

She didn't even blink, and replied, voice even. "Ah, I see. Regardless of my genetic composition, the task you have been assigned is vital to the continued function of the ship's navigational computer, and our continued course. If it were not to be fixed, we would veer off course, waste valuable resources, possibly placing the lives of this crew or even other Minbari in jeopardy, if something were to happen and we were anywhere other than our assigned destination. Our mission is patrol, after all. It would be a disgrace for the ship. It would certainly disrupt the operations of the ship for some time. I cannot imagine that someone such as yourself would flagrantly disregard the well-being and honor of your fellow crew-members simply because of your dislike of one individual, mongrel or otherwise. Such a breach in conduct would mean dishonor for your entire family, and your entire clan! This cannot be the case, can it…hanad?"

His eyes widened and his face colored as he cast his gaze promptly down and straightened, addressing her with the proper protocol. "NO, Ranat Lassee!"

The other crew members were still watching quietly. "Good." She said quietly, and then moved an inch from him and said loudly enough for those watching to hear, "I have noticed that there is a flu-like illness circulating among the crew for the past few days. I am going to assume that your failure to respond to my orders concerning this task was due to your succumbing to this…illness, and that it will not occur again in the course of your duty to myself or any other officer. In the meantime, you are relieved of duty for the remainder of your watch. I will have one of your fellow technicians substitute for you. You will be confined to quarters for the next day to insure that this…illness does not infect your fellow ship-mates. Is that clear?"

"YES, Ranat Lassee!"

"Dismissed."

He left hurriedly.

Havah turned to the other technicians, who quickly looked away and busied themselves with their work. "Hanad, what is your name?" She singled out a small female, scanning a sensor array.

The woman stood straight as Havah approached. "Kashenn, Na!"

"Hanad Kashenn, is your current task something that can wait for an hour?"

"Yes, Na!"

"Good. Assist me in repairing the main navigational computer. Power surges appear to be fracturing one of the crystals."

"Yes, Na!" She followed Havah, and took apart the components of the generator. It was fixed within the hour. No other incidents occurred on that watch.

The air was different as she entered the mess to take her meal, after being relieved. People still avoided her, but they continued to whisper as she went by, an occurrence which had previously died down after a few meals. They had heard. She focused on her meal and her own thoughts, until a female officer appeared above her tray.

The woman's tone was freezing. "I lost friends and family at Proxima Three. To your dishonorable trick, Changeling!"

Again, the mess had gone silent, listening. Havah looked at her evenly. "I'm sorry to hear that. I will not apologize for doing what I had to do in the course of duty, but I take no joy in their deaths."

"And your dishonor?"

"I do not believe that my tactics were dishonorable. They were not even original. Such strategies have been used numerous times in our history, and in fact by many organisms existing on many worlds. A tactic is not dishonorable simply because your military has chosen for one reason or another not to use it."

The woman looked angrier and leaned forward, placing her gloved hands on the table on either side of Havah's tray. "It was dishonorable because you are also Minbari! Minbari do not kill Minbari! You violated that law, regardless of your…impure heritage!"

"How can I violate a law I was unaware of, because of genetics I was also unaware of at the time?"

The woman narrowed her eyes and withdrew, crossing her arms. "And if you had known then?"

Havah paused. It was a fair question. "I would have done exactly as I did." The woman huffed in disgust, but Havah continued. "No. You asked me a question, now let me answer it! As you have so astutely pointed out, I am also part Human. I was in the Human military with a responsibility to protect Humans! MY family and friends were also dying, at Minbari hands! And in fact it was the Human race, not the Minbari, who were in danger of being exterminated! They had no chance against you and you damn well know it! What kind of soldier would I have been in their military if I had laid down and let you walk all over us? And you were trying to kill me too! Are you telling me that if you had known I was part Minbari then, that you wouldn't have shot at me?"

"That is precisely what I am telling you. We would not have chosen as you did."

"Really? I suppose you're right then. You have an exceedingly honorable crew because I'm fairly certain that every single one of you would like nothing more than to shove me out an airlock right now, ever since I came aboard."

The woman glared, taken aback, and then burst into sudden laughter. She leaned forward again, voice quieter. "I do not know whether you are brave or exceptionally stupid, but at least you are honest." She walked back to her table, and the silence slowly dissolved as people returned to their conversations.

Havah finished the rest of her meal and walked towards her quarters. As she turned the corner next to her room, two officers stepped in front of her, barring her path. One was a shai ranat, another was a ranat, like her. The senior officer spoke. "You play at being an officer but you are not qualified to give orders, particularly to my cousin! He was justified in rejecting your order, and if you ever threaten to shame our family because of it again, I will have you sent back to your father, beaten and caged like the animal you are! It is the Star Riders who will be in disgrace! Is that clear, Human?"

Havah stared at the two, feeling sick. This was a personal attack, and the one thing that was clear was that these were clan members of the man whom she had relieved from his watch. They were not going to give up, and one of them was a senior officer to her. Regardless of what happened next, who were the authorities going to believe? So she might was well stand her ground. "No, it isn't, Na." She still maintained the marginal use of protocol. At least, if she survived this, as the female officer in the mess had indicated she might, then she could look her father in the eye, and honestly tell him that she used the proper address. "His assistance was necessary. And while no one may agree with my appointment as an officer, I still have a duty to perform."

"Are you challenging me, beast?" He stepped up until she had to back up or topple off balance. But when she backed up, the other ranat was behind her. She kept her eyes down, feeling his breath on her hair at the crown of her head.

"No, Na, I am not. I am stating the truth. I did what was necessary—"

The blow came so swiftly, she didn't brace, as his elbow smashed into her ear. If she hadn't let her head tilt back as he hit, she would have blacked out and burst an eardrum. As it was, she couldn't see or hear. His fist drove into her solar plexus and she doubled and fell at the feet of both of them, and then he kicked her in the chest as she gasped for air, and covered her face. She tried to roll away from him, but came up against the feet of the ranat who had stood at her back, and the senior officer kicked her again, this time in the kidney. She screamed in pain, and waited for him to finish.

He grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet. "Get up, you little bitch!" He backhanded the right side of her face, near the eye, and then slammed her left cheek in a haymaker punch, and then backhanded her again. Her eyelid, already swelling shut, began dripping blood into her eyelashes. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground as she choked. "I warned you not to attempt your impersonation of an officer, not with me. But since you insisted on challenging me, you will suffer the consequences of insubordination as if you were a real soldier." He drop-kicked her. His boot slammed into her gut on the way down, and then he drew his pike, and beat her until her entire left side was bruised down to the bone. He took the key to her quarters, opened them, hauled her to her feet again by her hair, and shoved her into the room, and locked the door behind her. "You are confined to quarters, until the commander decides your fate." He growled through the intercom. She vomited and curled up on the floor, waited for her breathing to slow, and her sight and hearing to return, and prayed that they would.

The intercom bleeped, and she woke, after finding that she had passed out. Her hearing and sight had returned, and she pulled herself to her feet and answered the com, audio only. "Yes?"

"Ranat Lassee, this is Narsa Diri."

She sighed and switched on the visual, casting her eyes to the ground. "Yes, Na!"

His small eyes took in her face. "Your shift begins in one hour. Return to your shift."

"Yes, Na! Is there anything else, Na?"

"That is all. Dismissed." He disappeared from the screen. There were spots of blood on the floor from her still swollen eyelid, and she glanced in the mirror against her better judgment. One eye was still swollen shut, but when she delicately pried it open, to test her sight, it still worked. Only the eyelid had been lacerated. Her cheek was swollen and purple, and she could feel the weals all over her body. But at least no bones were broken. An officer came, unlocked the door and returned her key.

She dragged to her post, wondering how she was going handle the hanad. He was undoubtedly going to be back on duty, and as defiant as ever. The navigations officer stared at her, but did not look surprised. He briefed her and left her to the shift. After a glance around, she realized that the hanad, who had been stationed on her watch, was not there. After a review of the roster, she realized that someone else had been assigned in his place. The shift passed without comment.

Havah sat at an empty table in the mess, as usual, and began eating her evening meal, painfully, trying to chew on the side where her cheek wasn't bruised. The woman from the previous night returned. This time, she was carrying her tray. She glanced briefly at Havah's bruised face, but said nothing. She sat down in front of Havah and began eating, to Havah's amazement. After a minute, she introduced herself. "I am Polenni, of the family of Hashat."

"Hi. I'm Havah…Lassee…of the family of Callier." She paused, unsure of which name would be better.

"I am interested in this history you mentioned yesterday, these tactics." She said nothing further about her familial loss, steering carefully clear of it.

Havah followed her lead. "Oh. Well, one instance of it was during the Apache War in the 1800s. The Chiricahua Apache nation had been fighting the incoming Mexicans and the Anglo-American troops because the settlers were disrupting their way of life and forcing them onto land the settlers called 'reservations'. They couldn't survive on this land, and so they fought back. But the Apache were desperately outnumbered and outgunned in terms of technology. They had been a hunting-and-gathering society. Their weapons were largely bow and arrow, axe, and a few other implements. The weapons of the U.S. soldiers were gun and sword. The Apache were superb warriors, and they had managed to acquire some guns from the soldiers they killed, but nothing comparable to the caches available to the U.S. military. So the chief at that time, a man named Geronimo, and a band of his followers, buried themselves in the sand, as a supply train for the U.S. soldiers approached. The warriors rose from the ground, killed the men on the supply line and took their uniforms. Since there was a hill between Geronimo's location and the fort to which the supplies were going, the lookouts at the fort never saw what happened. Geronimo and his men marched into the fort undetected, dressed as soldiers on the supply line, and destroyed the troops inside."

Polenni gazed at her with wide eyes. "They won the battle, then?"

"No. Well, that battle, yes. But they ultimately lost the war. The Chiricahua Apaches were forced to move from the reservation they had been restricted to, to the San Carlos reservation which was even less sufficient for their needs, and finally Geronimo and his men were exiled to Florida and Oklahoma, after their captors violated the terms of their surrender."

"They dishonored their word, the U.S. captors?"

"Yeah. Repeatedly. That's one reason the Apaches were so angry. And they stayed angry for a really long time."

"Are they still alive, these Apaches?"

"Oh, yeah. They're still an active people. The U.S. tried to destroy their culture by forbidding them to speak their language and perform their rituals. They were trying to demoralize and dehumanize them. A demoralized enemy provides less opposition. And they almost succeeded. It took the Apaches a hundred and fifty years to recover. But the government underestimated the strength of culture and cultural pride."

Polenni looked thoughtful. "There was a time when Minbari did kill Minbari, but I do not think there was a difference in culture. I do not understand why the Apache were so different from the U.S.?"

"That's because you're trying to think of Humans as having one culture, like the Minbari. We don't. We have many cultures, and by and large they are not unified, except in a very loose sense, like the Minbari have a confederacy between the different castes. You know how you have variation across region and more variation between castes? Well, the most dominant Human cultures don't have castes, but we have a much vaster degree of variation between cultures. Minbari society began evolving in one place, and spread out from there. Human society didn't. Human societies evolved in a number of places and then merged, although sometimes a society would form and then split off to form another society that became more different over time and geography. That is the easiest way I can explain it."

"It sounds very chaotic."

"Well, I guess it is. You've noticed we're not the most organized of peoples."

She smiled. "Yes, that is difficult to miss…And what of these organisms you spoke of, that imitate other organisms?"

"Oh. Just viruses. Well, there are other organisms that do that too. The idea is that they get into the living cells to cloak themselves from the body's immune system. So, the immune system only detects the cell that the virus is infecting, until the cell is destroyed by their multiplication and they fan out and do it again to other cells."

Polenni was looking at her warily. "You were imitating a virus?" There were mixed notes of fascination and distaste in her voice.

"Well, it wasn't that thoughtful at the time. I just did what I thought would work. We were all up against the wire."

"Interesting." She finished her meal in silence, nodded curtly to Havah and left. Havah shook her head and continued eating.

The next night, when she entered the mess, Ranat Polenni was already there. As Havah collected her food, Polenni motioned her over with a wagging of her fingers. She was standing next to a tall shai ranat. "This is Kol, of the family of Nod." He bowed slightly. Havah bowed back. They sat down to their meals. And Polenni spoke. "I told him about the chief of your Apaches…Geronimo. And we looked him up in the Earth history files we downloaded. He was a great warrior. There were many interesting things in your history. It is so…complicated. So many things happened in different places, all at once, and in very short periods of time."

"Yeah, I guess our history is a little more compacted than yours."

"And you are a very young race. I did not realize how young."

"We also looked up clans in Earth history." Kol spoke in a baritone. "The files listed about twenty of them. They were…Scottish, from a group called the Celts?"

"Yes. They're pretty famous. They were renowned fighters too, when they decided to unite."

"The history of their strife was very similar to ours, although I do not think their inter-clan battles were as extensive, except when they divided and fought alongside the English."

"Ah, you mean the Campbells?"

"Yes, and the MacDonalds? The Battle of Glencoe? This is like a battle that happened between our clans a little over a thousand years ago."

"The Battle of Six-Thousand. I read about it. Yeah, although Glencoe didn't have as many people."

"But there were children! Why did they kill the children? This is not honorable."

"Well. No, it certainly isn't. But from their perspective, it was all about consolidating and keeping power. Genocide is one vehicle for accomplishing that. Power does funny things to people. And they're still hated today. There are yearly Highland Games in a number of places, and the Campbells are always separated from the other clans. I don't know that it was that simple though. That battle certainly was legendary, but not all Campbells deserved that dishonor, and the fighting was about more than power. Some did fight with each other out of conviction. Religion played into the mix too. The Campbells were Protestant, while most of the other Highland clans were Catholic. This didn't gain them any popularity."

"They fought over religion? I do not understand."

"Well, the Protestants and the Catholics had different views about how to worship God. The Catholics believed in obeying the Pope, based out of Rome, and the Protestants didn't. The Protestants believed that worship should be simple, and less adorned than Catholic practice. The Protestants believed that the Church was corrupt and invested in purchasing forgiveness from God and buying power, rather than focusing on piety."

Polenni just looked baffled. "But they both prayed, they both worshipped."

"Yes."

"And they fought over how to worship?"

"Yes. Sort of. It's more complicated than that."

Kol smirked. "Absurd. I suppose that is what happens when the religious are given too much power!"

Polenni shot him a look. "What do you mean 'buy forgiveness', forgiveness for what? How did they buy forgiveness from their gods?"

"Oh boy." Havah shook her head. How the hell was she going to explain that one? Wars over religion were obviously a foreign concept to them. "Well, it's a concept called 'Original Sin.' The idea is that we all retain this sin even as soon as we're born because of something that our ancestors did back in the beginning of creation."

"What did they do?"

Havah laughed, and couldn't stop laughing for a moment. The two Minbari looked at each other, perplexed, and waited for Havah to catch her breath. "They ate from an apple that God told them not to eat. They disobeyed the word of God. The tree was supposedly the Tree of Knowledge, and once they ate from it, they became aware of things God didn't want them to be aware of, like their own nakedness. They developed shame and tried to make clothes and cover themselves. God found out about it and banished them from Paradise."

The two Minbari were just staring at her, dumbfounded, jaws slightly agog. Polenni spoke carefully. "So…these religious people were born in shame because their ancestors, millions of years ago, ate a piece of fruit?"

"Well, you understand the concept of obedience. Your society revolves around it. Is it really so different?"

"No…but our obedience means something."

"So did theirs, in their view. Don't get me wrong, I don't really understand 'Original Sin' either. It's not part of my religion, so it's pretty alien to me too. But in their view, God gave them an order not to eat from that tree, and they believed that He/She/It had a good reason for doing so."

"Because they would gain too much knowledge! That sounds very much like the Grey Council!" A note of anger crept into her voice.

"Well, yes. But maybe He wanted to spare them the knowledge that the galaxy isn't idyllic. There was death in that knowledge, and sadness."

"He wanted to keep them sheltered then, like children. Foolish and without substance! Our people are sheltered. WE shelter them, the warrior caste shelters them, and now they cannot form a thought without being told what to think by the Grey Council!"

"But the warrior caste held four of the nine spots on the council."

"Before it was disbanded!" She finished bitterly. "They had finally started to turn in a more amenable direction, and so the religious caste destroyed them!"

This had opened up a can of worms that Havah hadn't anticipated. Kol's jaw had set in anger too. There was genuine conviction in both of their faces, and she realized that these politics were no less twisted than any Earth had produced, with real damage to real people. And as much as she had disliked the warriors, there were no real villains. Everyone was affected, and had their side. _The truth is a three-edged sword, _the Vorlon ambassador had said, years ago, it seemed. Havah was at a loss for how to respond, so she changed the subject, back to clans. "So what clan are you?" She asked Polenni.

"Wind Sword. As is he." She motioned to Kol, who had begun eating heartily again.

"Oh." Suddenly she felt like a Campbell in a MacDonald camp. It was a uniquely uncomfortable feeling. But they were eating together so that was a start. "So, are you two related then?"

"The connection is too distant to measure conveniently."

"Ah…" Again, she ran into an awkward wall. "…The hyperspace navigation system is really amazing! I know physicists on Earth who would give their arms and legs to even get a glimpse at it." _Crap! Not that I would leak information on it or anything._ She stuttered mentally.

For the first time, Polenni and Kol both grinned with pride, and Kol nodded. They both simultaneously dived into a technical banter that would have fried the ears of any Earth Force technician she knew, and happily finished their meal.

As they cleared their trays, Polenni changed the subject. "I have been thinking about your tactics. They were not dishonorable. It occurs to me that there was a time when we used such strategies. They are strategies used by people who are smaller and weaker than their opponents. They must use other ways to survive. It has been a thousand years since we have needed them. We have been the strongest for a long time."

"I know." Havah said quietly.

The women looked at each other, and Polenni slowly extended her hand in a Human fashion, and said nothing. Havah shook it.

"Tomorrow perhaps?" Polenni proposed.

"Sure."

The code of silence concerning what had happened the other night was still unbroken, and she let it alone, wondering where this would lead.

Felshenn pored over the piles of reports that Alyt Neroon had 'generously' shared with him. _Thank you, Na, for giving me the opportunity to battle mounds of paperwork. I know how much you savor it._ His eyes were blurry, and he rubbed them, slid his gloves off and let his hand wander to his overcoat pocket, fiddling with the little silky knot of hair nested there, before yawning and returning to the drudgery.

17


	24. Chapter 24

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 24—The Tournament

Polenni and Kol continued to sit with Havah at dinner. They had ravenous appetites, both for food, and for knowledge about Human military history. They had downloaded everything they could find in the computer on every culture available and its military history, and had put in requests with Research for more. They couldn't fire questions at Havah fast enough about the Spartans, the Achaean Greeks and the Trojan War, the Mongols, the Han, Ming, and Manchu Dynasties, the Japanese Samurai, the Iron Age Celts and the Irish Red Branch Cycle, the British Empire and British naval history, and New Jerusalem. Several questions, particularly about ancient Greece, stumped Havah and she had to shamefully admit that she had no idea as to the answer. Well, their questions would at least inspire her to learn her own history better. As Havah suspected they would, they seemed to identify highly with samurai society, although they didn't understand why women, especially female samurai, took such a reserved role. In Minbari society, it was the woman's family who was at the core of the lineage, and the thought that a wife left her family to join her husband's was utterly baffling to them. On the other hand, as alien as that concept was to them, they could not talk enough about Sun Tzu's Art of War, and his elaboration of armies.

"The First Army inspires fear, so that it may be unnecessary to fight. Yes, we learn this in our training! It is the same as our concept of ana'do. Terror." Kol said, his baritone and the intensity of his eyes as he said the word made Havah shiver.

"It is amazing. This Sun Tzu existed how many thousands of your years ago, with simple weapons, and yet his idea of how to command, and his use of troops is very similar to ours." Polenni mused.

"Well, the strategies came from the same place though, in terms of technology. The Minbari didn't always have advanced weaponry, so their tactics had to reflect the type of weapons at their disposal, and the use of each weapon. Later, when weapons were no longer face-to-face, or short distance projectile, with a one-to-one kill ratio per weapon or projectile, everything changed, as you know."

"This is true." Polenni said. "Is that why the Celts fought as they did? They seemed to waste a great deal of energy in their battle rages and Champion's Feats, energy that could have been reserved for an actual conflict, but then, they did not have large numbers, and their weapons were made of crude metal and stone. I thought that their methods of fighting were highly disorganized, but they did not have a formal military, did they? And it would not have been advantageous for them to fight in direct conflict with anyone, if it could have been avoided. The rages and feats were their First Army, their use of terror."

"Yes. Exactly." This woman was frighteningly intelligent, Havah thought, as she realized how uncomfortable that would have made more than one Earth Force official.

"Their use of severed heads, the keeping of the heads of their enemies, was also for this purpose, yes? That is barbaric!" Her mouth curled down in disgust.

"Well, that was one reason, but terror wasn't the only reason. Actually, it was their way of honoring their enemies."

"Honoring them? How, in Valen's name, is defiling a fallen warrior's body honoring it?"

"By keeping it from animal defilement. It was for the families of the slain to tend to the bodies, but that took time. And before the families could get there, the crows would have picked out the eyes and pecked at the exposed flesh. Most of the rest of the body was covered, but the head wasn't…well, sometimes they rode naked into battle, but that's another story. Anyway, if someone had been a worthy enemy, it was considered extremely disrespectful to leave their head to be violated by carrion-eaters. At least, if it were taken, it would be preserved. Also, the display of their head by an enemy meant that that enemy considered them worthy, because they were displaying pride at having defeated such a challenge."

Both Polenni and Kol thought about this for a moment. "That is an interesting way of viewing it. And it is true that praise from one's enemy is the greatest compliment…but it is better that they do not survive to give it." Polenni grinned.

Havah nodded back politely, twitching slightly in her mind.

"Why did they ride naked into battle?" Polenni continued.

"They were demonstrating their prowess and bravery. They were showing that they did not fear death, and perhaps bluffing their opponents into thinking that they were so skilled that they didn't need armor. Also, it was a dominance tactic, sort of like an ape yawning to show the size of its fangs…They were trying to show the…size of their…" Havah turned red.

Polenni and Kol both burst out into gales of laughter, and it was a minute before a doubled-over Polenni could speak again.

Havah sighed, finally. "Alright, alright. You can stop laughing now, you've made your point." Havah muffled a snicker. "It's not really all that different from the Minbari, is it? You just don't do it directly. Like the flourishing of the denn bok? How is that different? You're still demonstrating prowess, with a weapon that is highly reminiscent of…"

There could have been crickets sounding to each other as the two Minbari looked at her in shock and horror.

"No? Ok. Sorry. It's just that we have a …dubious theory called Freudian theory, and it talks a lot about…phallic representations in society, but I guess that's just a Human thing."

Their faces were stony and Kol looked as though he was going to stand up and grab her across the table, but Polenni's severe expression softened and she looked at Kol. "I suppose that could be true, but most Minbari do not consider such displays to be civilized." Her voice was still offended.

"Sorry."

After a tense moment, she shook her head. "It is alright. You are Human. I forgot momentarily about the differences."

Kol relented and appeared to forget the incident, in more questions. "I still do not understand the British Empire, or the Gulf Wars. What was their motive for so much warfare? They appear to be very similar to the Centauri. They invaded a land and claimed to bring civilization because they brought greater technology, but they were very wasteful of resources. I do not understand their motives."

"Well, like the Centauri, they didn't believe that fourth world or third world societies, that's what we called them at the time, were people in the same way as they were because of the lack of technology, or the differences in worldview or customs." Havah thought of the Draghk and the Earth-Minbari War, remembering that it had been a million years since the Minbari had truly had to fight for resources. "And these societies had raw resources that the British Empire, or America at the time, wanted. So they went in and took them, and used 'enlightenment' as an excuse."

Polenni spoke carefully, and her voice dropped. "That is what our clan leader talks about. He says that we should go to war only for material reasons. Everything else is too nebulous to waste lives. And he feels that the warrior caste is the most fit to lead the Minbari, and that it would be best for all our people, because the warrior caste knows how to govern properly, and because our experiences in defense provide us with authority."

A sharp hook twisted in Havah's chest as Polenni spoke. "Shai Alyt Shakiri?"

"Yes. You know of him?"

"Yeah, I saw him talking with Alyt Neroon."

"They are a powerful pair. The warrior caste will benefit greatly from their collaboration."

"Yeah…" Havah stared into her food, lost in misgivings she didn't share.

The ship was abuzz with excitement. Three weeks into the tour, and people were already getting restless for something other than the daily grind of duty. It was time for the first tournament of the season. Because their training in hand-to-hand combat began in childhood, Minbari warriors loved to test their skill, and blow off steam and extra energy in the form of sparring. Since they were extremely fit, they also had a significant amount of sexual energy to expend, and tournaments helped to lessen some of that by diverting their attentions away from other extra-shift pursuits. It was an event that young soldiers looked forward to immensely and trained vigorously for, while they weren't on shift or even on tour. All ships had tournaments at times that were scheduled by each ship, accommodating ship missions. The first level of the tournament was held in rotating watches, so that regardless of watch, all crewmen had the opportunity to participate. Soldiers would be randomly selected from a pool of names given by the duty officers, so that Havah would fight people who also shared the same watch, in terms of time, if not post. Participants would fight until eliminated. A match was won by gaining eighteen hits against one's opponent, or an obvious death, like holding a pike against an opponent's throat, on the ground, without an exchange of blows. The hits were not touch-contact as many fighting tournaments were on Earth. The Minbari also liked to demonstrate the sturdiness of their constitutions. For a blow to be considered a hit, it had to be heavy contact to the body and head-bone, and medium contact to the rest of the head. Deliberate breaking of bones, organ or joint rupturing, anything other than bruising and superficial damage was outlawed, and penalties were exacted for accidents. This inspired careful attention to control. The tournament was to be used for demonstration of skill and release of energy, but the soldiers needed to be able to return to their posts and perform their duties afterwards. Lengthy recuperation time was not desirable for further training, or for the functioning of the ship. There were marshals monitoring the fight, not to question the honor of the contestants concerning what was considered a hit and what wasn't, but to help the contestants keep track of points, and as insurance that tempers did not flare out of control. Havah wondered briefly why they didn't just have some sort of electronic calibrated system for recording points, as they did on the Star Furies in war games, and in strip fencing tournaments. And then she realized that the Minbari attention to honor would probably consider that use of electronics in a tournament an affront, by demonstrating lack of trust.

She surveyed the room. To her dismay, she spied the two officers who had beaten her, over with a cluster of people she assumed were other members of their clan. The Night Walker whom she had dismissed was also there. This was one of the other instances aboard the ship when clan relationships tended to coalesce. The tournament was wisely not organized according to clan, but it was a source of immense pride to each clan when their respective members won a match. The three had also spied her, and were looking over at her with threatening grins, obviously hoping to draw her in a match. Polenni and Kol were there, in a corner with a few other soldiers, a couple officers and a couple shipmen. She didn't recognize any Star Riders, so she meandered over to Polenni. "Hi."

"Hi. Are you ready?" Polenni grinned, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"As much as I'm going to be." She shrugged. It would be interesting, and a source of a lot of good sparring, but she just couldn't garner the same enthusiasm after the incident two weeks earlier. Her bruises were just fading now.

The head marshal called the tournament to order, and everyone fell silent. He stood in the center of the mats and extended his denn bok, and held it symbolically above his head. "We fight to hone our skill in battle. We fight because it is our duty. We fight to demonstrate honor to our opponents, and to challenge ourselves! Let the challenge begin!"

A deep drum thundered through the training hall, and he retracted his pike, turned and strode off the mats. The duty officer called out the names of the first sets of opponents. There was room for six fighting areas, six matches at once, to cycle through the hundreds of waiting contestants. And they waited, and waited. Even with six matches going on, it could be a while before being called, if one's name wasn't pulled soon. After the third match, the shai ranat who had disciplined her was up. Havah watched him intently. He had a tendency to stand up into a natural stance as he fought, coming out of a more sturdy fighting stance. And he telegraphed whenever he was going to kick, his weight shifted slightly and his eyes got more intent, glancing briefly at where he was going to kick or punch. He was blindingly fast, but those weaknesses were a place to start. He defeated his junior opponent, and swaggered off the mat. Matches were not organized by rank either.

The first sets of matches were empty-handed. The pike-fights came after contestants proved in three undefeated rounds that they could fight without one. Havah heard her name called and stepped onto the mat. A large Antal faced her. His face was unreadable as they bowed to one another. Unlike most men his size, he dropped his center of gravity quite effectively into a low fighting stance, not a good candidate for sweeps. She dropped her center of gravity lower, and still resolved to use his large size against him. _The bigger they are the harder they fall_, she thought. At the sound of the drum, she swarmed him with flurries of blows, and as he came in with a fast elbow, she yielded to the blow more successfully than she had the other night, redirected the force in a circle and drove it through her palms into his dantien, just below his navel, throwing him back and onto the ground.

It was a good fight, and he was a tough opponent, but ultimately, she got under him again, rolled him over her shoulder and placed an Eagle-claw hand at his trachea. He nodded and she let him up. His eyes were disappointed, but more than a little amused, as he bowed to her and left the mat. She returned to the side, next to Polenni. Polenni, who had been watching, looked at her approvingly. "He is not an easy opponent. You took the right approach in fighting him. For a large man, he is good at getting low. He has the ability to use his size, but does not have to rely on it, as many others do."

Havah nodded. Polenni had been daunting to watch. She had a similar style to Havah, using unusual angles. She wasn't a large woman, but she was exceedingly fast. Havah hoped simultaneously that she would get a chance to fight her, and hoped that she would not. They were both called to separate contestants, won, and then stood commenting on this or that contestant's weaknesses. It seemed they both agreed on those too.

Their names were called, for each their third round. They looked at each other and stepped onto the mat. Polenni grinned and opened her pike with enthusiasm, and then her face settled into a dead calm. Havah opened hers and let her eyes drift out of focus to take in Polenni's whole image. The match began, and each woman circled the other slowly. There would be no taking advantage of underestimation for either of them. The circling went on for a minute longer. Polenni was waiting to draw Havah in, and Havah was doing the same. Realizing that one of them had to act or they would be there until their shifts began, Havah faked to the right towards the left side of Polenni's head, and then swung up under, towards her stomach. Polenni twitched at the fake, but blocked Havah's blow easily, and countered with a sideways snap to Havah's right, sliding along Havah's pike and flicking the pike to her bone-less temple. Her control had been impeccable. She'd had the perfect placement and power, but had pulled the blow, tapping Havah to let her know the blow had been good. Havah nodded at the point, impressed, and really began to enjoy the match, even though she was fairly certain she was going to get her butt kicked. They circled one another again, and Havah, no wiser than the first time, was the first to move. She threw an obvious blow to the head with a good deal of power, so that Polenni would need some movement to block it. As Polenni blocked up and counterstruck to the side again, Havah ducked, swung under the pike and spun into a circle, sweeping Polenni's ankle with the pike. She fell and rolled backward and up into a fighting stance, thrusting at Havah's groin as Havah stepped in. Havah parried the blow low and to the right and followed the tip around, spinning back and thrusting it towards Polenni's nose. Just in time, Polenni leaned back, allowing the pike to pass over. Because Havah had been pulling the blow, she hadn't over-committed and drew the pike back as Polenni planted her pike on the ground, and crescent-kicked around the pike. Havah stepped inside the kick, and hip checked Polenni through the upright pike, throwing her off-balance. Polenni staggered and braced the pike behind her on the ground and leaned on it, while throwing a knee trap. Havah spun down, bending away from the trap and swinging the pike in a windmill spin along with a leg scissors, bringing herself to her feet, with the pike under her left arm. Polenni cracked a bare smile, clearly enjoying herself. Havah swung her pike out and into a more general fighting position. Polenni faked a thrust in and then brought the pike around right, deflecting Havah's pike around in a circle, thrust down and in again. Havah deflected, spun the pike under her arm and brought the end down on the right while double-kicking left and right, catching Polenni in the chest as she sank to duck the pike. She nodded grimly through a look of discomfort.

Havah waited for her to position herself, and then they nodded to each other and began circling again. The bout went on for an hour, they were so well-matched. Despite the other matches, the bulk of the crowd close enough to see any of the matches through the mass of people, were watching the two women. They started accumulating blows against one another as they tired and let their guards sink.

Despite all of the flashy moves they were both trying against one another, it was the basics that won the match. Havah delivered the final blow after a combination of shots. Polenni had blocked a blow down past the knee, Havah stepped on the pike, trapping it for just enough time to place her own pike end at Polenni's throat. Polenni nodded and bowed, acceding the match. Havah bowed deeply back. Polenni smiled, recognizing the compliment, and they walked off the mat together.

"I expected to stay in the tournament longer this year, but if I had to lose, this was a worthy match."

"You're really great to spar too! I can't believe the control you had, especially on the first blow. You could've taken my head off! I thought about acceding the match, but then I remembered that the Minbari don't consider that to be an automatic kill. I hope that was the right thing to do, I wasn't sure."

"That was fine. Even though you do not have a head bone, it would have been possible to survive such a blow, not comfortable, but possible, depending on how heavily the blow landed. During the war, we found that Humans were much more resilient than we originally thought…although not to the same degree as Minbari."

They went back to watching the matches. Kol was out on the mats, and soon defeated his opponent. After a few more matches, Havah caught her breath, just in time to be called again. This time, her opponent was the shai ranat who had pounded her face in. His name was Lidann.

He sneered as she stepped onto the mat, cracking his knuckles. Here was another chance to show the Human her place here.

His eyes glittered as the drum rolled, along with Havah's stomach. And it was then that a steady cold calculation replaced the fear that had swept through Havah at the sight of him. Her first instinct was to pummel him in direct ratio to the blows she had received the other night, taking him apart, muscle by muscle, leaving the bones unbroken, of course. But instead, she realized that he would never respond to this. It wouldn't even faze him. He might even choose to disregard her blows or force her to hurt him, in order to make him acknowledge her hits. But that would be impossible if he spent the entire round looking up at her from the ground. As the match began, she just waited for him to move in. Her bout with Polenni had reminded her of patience.

He taunted her to get her to move in first. To walk away from a match would be to forfeit it. "The little Human is too much of a coward! We will be here until the stars go nova."

She didn't even hear him. He began growing frustrated, and finally stepped in, throwing his pike fast at her head, but swinging around in a circle and trying to catch her with the other end. She dropped and swept him, with her leg, using the pike only to block her head. Every time he rose to his feet, she swept him to the ground again, front sweeps, back-sweeps, iron broom sweeps, sweeps with the pike, and without. And she threw not a blow. Ten minutes into the match and she even retracted her pike. She wasn't ready for this to be finished yet.

The fight went on for twenty minutes and it became clear to everyone watching, that her tactics were deliberate. He was getting obviously enraged, and began rushing her, only to fall again to another sweep. He couldn't even approach her. He looked angrily at the marshals to stop the match, since her intent was retaliation. But she wasn't damaging him, so they allowed it to continue, as much out of fascination as any other reason. Her face was dead calm and her ashen eyes were as cold as an insect's. A tiny needle of fear pricked into his throat, which made him even angrier. This little abomination was toying with him. Her very face was repellant, defiling the blood of the Minbari, defiling their service on this ship! He rushed her again, and was swept.

She looked down at him in his impotent rage, and decided to finish the match. Her fight was beginning to hamper the continuation of the tournament. That wasn't fair to the other soldiers, and she had made her point. He couldn't hurt her here, although she wasn't sure about later, when rank and protocol applied again. She waited for him to climb to his feet and then swept him again, extending the pike that she had retracted, to touch his throat on the ground. The match was over.

He saw the cold detached impulse to kill in her eyes that was gone as quickly as he had seen it, as the cold metal just barely rested on the skin of his throat. And the needle of fear pricked him again, followed by a surge of hatred. She retracted the pike and backed away as he stood up. This time, she let him stay on his feet. There was no way to contest this, and he choked back a string of the harshest profanities in the warrior caste language and stalked off the mat.

Havah walked off, and found that her knees were shaking. It was the hatred. She could feel it, even through the coldness. Kol clapped her on the back, grinning, and Polenni was gazing at her in amazement. "Thank you for not humiliating me in that manner."

"I don't think I could have. You don't stand up straight when you spar. I think he's going to kill me later. I don't know what made me do it. I think I messed up the tournament too. We're not supposed to participate or react out of temper."

"We are not supposed to try to hurt another soldier out of temper. But you did not hurt him. You did not even throw a blow until the final killing blow, and then you only touched him. There are no rules about retaliation in general, although it is discouraged. It still happens, and the way you did it…was not arguable, since he can return to his duties. And it was understandable after what happened."

Havah turned to her, from the match she was watching. "You heard about that?"

Polenni snorted. "Everyone heard about that! We may be a big ship, but incidents travel fast. That is why Vaal went to his clan-brothers when you dismissed him. He knew his actions would shame him, even though you called it 'sick-leave' to save him face. He's always been a little whiner!" She snorted again.

Kol sniffed and shook his head in agreement. "He's a real pain. It wouldn't be the first time he's been relieved of duty either. We do not kill our own, but he can really make you question the wisdom of applying that law to everyone. We keep looking for a way of discovering that he is not really a Minbari, hoping that maybe he is a Skin-Stealer so that we can just run him through the waste recycling unit. At least then he could feed the plants. But, no luck so far."

Polenni let out a laugh and covered it with her hand quickly. And Kol continued. "I guess our last hope, before we really talked with you, was that your Human savagery would take over and you'd just kill him for us. Sorry."

Now it was Havah's turn to laugh in relief and surprise, ignoring completely the 'savage' remark. "Well, at least he wasn't being a jerk specially for me."

"Not remotely." Polenni exclaimed.

"So, if his clan reacted, how come the Star Riders didn't? Not that I'm complaining about that. I'm just not clear on what governs the decision to get involved."

"Personal honor, necessity, and sometimes…arbitrary decision. It would have lost face for you if your clan had not given you a chance to handle the matter sufficiently on your own, which you did, making it unnecessary for them to step in. You saved face for the Star Riders, while Vaal lost face for his. Their clan will not forget that."

Havah sighed heavily. "I was afraid of that. So then, I still don't understand what happened afterwards. Ok. I pissed him off and he went to his clan brothers among the officers, to 'teach me a lesson.' Well, that officer, Shai Ranat Lidann, tried to get me to challenge him, and I guess I did, although I just told him the truth. So he 'disciplined' me and threw me in my quarters and locked the door, saying that I was confined until the commander decided my punishment. But then nothing happened. The commander called, had the door unlocked, and just told me to get to my shift, and I haven't heard anything since about punishment. Did he change his mind?"

"The commander had no intention of punishing you for doing your job. One of the staff observed everything, Hanad Kashenn, and when she heard what happened, she went to the commander and told him what had occurred to make you dismiss Lidann's clan-brother, word for word."

"But what about my 'challenging' a superior officer?"

"Beyond what Hanad Kashenn told the commander, I do not know. But knowing Narsa Diri, and Lidann, it was probably pointed out to Lidann that first of all, you would not have been in such a position, if your legitimate actions had not been disregarded. And second, Shai Ranat Lidann is known for…accenting the drama of events. As you have seen, he is very proud and his pride is easily pricked. However, as a Minbari, he also maintains honor, and cannot lie to damage another person, when he is asked a direct question about the truth. The commander knows him well, and very likely asked Lidann to repeat what you had said. And if you only spoke the truth in a respectful manner, then he would have to admit that you did not act insubordinately."

"Hmm." Havah mused. Their shift was nearing, and this group of matches concluded. They all walked together to the mess to take a meal before separating for their posts.

Lidann was in the mess. He glared daggers in her direction, but Polenni noticed and merely said quietly, "He will try to bait you, but if you follow protocol, he cannot act against you without others knowing the real reasons for his actions, and he would be shamed. Narsa Diri knows, and now, so will anyone who saw the fight. Do not look so frightened. You give him power when you do this. Have you no ability to keep emotion to yourself? Humans are an obvious lot, aren't you?"

She was right. Havah lacked any kind of poker face. But she focused on her food and he became less important.

The tournament continued for the next two weeks, as shift contestants were whittled down. The finals would be between one crew-member from each watch. The contestant in whose watch the final matches occurred, would have a replacement at their post, as reward for having placed in the finals. Neither Havah, nor Kol made it. Havah was eliminated in the fourth set from the end of shift matches, and Kol, in the second.

He scowled as he came off the mat, furious with himself for a slip he had made, the same one he always made. "Left rear, I always leave that open! Always! I never learn to cover that! I fought like an eighteen year old anda!" He sat down in a huff, to watch the remaining contestants. Havah tried to mask a smirk, but he caught it. "What do you find so amusing!"

"Nothing. Man, you placed third in matches on a ship of three-thousand. I don't think you should be unhappy."

"Hmmmph!" He grunted, and went back to watching.

"She is right, you know." Polenni said. "How do you think I feel! I was eliminated in the first few rounds…by a Human!" She shot a look, mostly kidding, at Havah, and then turned to her, "He placed to the same level last year. That is why he is angry. He has been training since then, and hoped not to make the same mistake."

"So. Next year."

"Next year for certain!" He growled.

After a month of navigation, her watch began in Weapons. The ship was arrayed with batteries of anti-proton cannons of various classes. They were powered from the same source as the engines. The deuterium that fueled the ships was stored in a magnetic tank and then funneled through a chamber with another magnetic source, a superconducting metal called karkha, strong enough to reverse the spin of the quarks in the deuterium molecules, creating a supply of anti-protons that could then be stored for use in either propulsion or weaponry. Again, this system was far more advanced than the Earth Force ships, which still used only laser and ion cannons. There were also batteries of ion cannons on the Minbari ships. The ion cannon, shooting accelerated protons, could disrupt the electrical systems of a ship, without the devastating release of energy generated by anti-proton streams, which unzipped any matter they came into contact with, causing plasma explosions in the surrounding space.

Havah and a shai ranat, also assigned to Weapons, donned grounding suits, activated them, and moved towards the anti-proton buffer tanks. The metallic cloth whispered and hummed around her. The suits grounded them to the ship, preventing the cellular damage that would eventually accumulate after long periods of exposure to the strong electromagnetic fields, generated by the containment tanks and emitters of the weapons bays. They ran diagnostics on the containment system, and checked the sensor arrays that monitored the integrity of the tanks. This supply of anti-protons would provide continued firepower, even if the flow of antimatter from the main storage tanks that fueled the ships were interrupted.

The next task was the inspection of the particle acceleration fields of each emitter in the array. Havah shut off the grounding to her suit, donned an additional EVA suit, entered her failsafe code, and began to exit into the first barrel. Something made her turn around. The shai ranat was eying her. She thought with a jolt that he was waiting for her to climb in before he turned on the field and blasted her into space with a particle beam. _Oops, must have misfired!_ And then she remembered that her failsafe code prevented that.

It was still an unsettling stare, and then he spoke. "You are the first Human to have such a close view of our weapons and survive. You have seen what they can do, from the other end."

She swallowed, but no saliva wetted her throat. "Yes, Na." She said hoarsely. He just smiled and turned to attend to another tube. Her knees shook as she viewed the rows of magnets. And her hands continued to tremble slightly as they ran targeting simulations on the computer and two back-up systems, seeing only the fire from the cannons ripping through Star Furies, like exploding fireflies. The inspection of the other bays, stations, reticles, and hard fiber lines and wireless data networks that connected them to the weapons, took the rest of the shift, and the end couldn't come soon enough. She was gone as soon as her relief arrived. She skipped the mess, shut the door to her room, slid down the wall and just sat, hunched, with her arms wrapped around her and her head on her knees.

The beginning of the shift crept closer, and she watched the clock with dread. She trudged to her post, and the shai ranat was already there. Fortunately, he seemed to have lost his curiosity and they ran more advanced simulations for most of the watch, to distinguish between friendly fire and enemy, and identify ship signature codes, and test the range of firing solutions. As they finished the last simulations, he spoke to her personally again. "Earther ships, they use laser…and ion cannon?"

"Yes, Na." _Why are you tormenting me?_ She thought irritably.

"Impressive."

Havah paused. "What do you mean, Na?"

"We use lasers in practice. They are practice weapons, and your ships used them in battle. And sometimes lived. That is…impressive, and takes…some degree of courage."

"Thank you, Na…I think."

He gave that little smile again. The reliefs arrived. He nodded to her and left. She walked slowly to the mess.

Polenni had been acting strangely for the past couple of days, and when Havah arrived at the cafeteria, Polenni was not there. She had remained in her quarters, Kol told her, looking at her accusingly.

"Is she alright?"

He hesitated. "She is mourning."

"Mourning? Oh, wow, I'm sorry to hear that! For whom?"

"Her brother."

"Geez! When did he die? Should I stop by and give my condolences? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can leave her to mourn. He died in the Earth-Minbari War. It would not be a good idea for you to see her right now. It is the day of his birth. Rather than remember the day on which loved ones die, we remember them on their first day of life."

Havah's face fell. "Oh. I understand…Well, tell her that…that I'll do anything I can to make things easier for her."

"I will convey your sentiment. She will appreciate it, eventually. I knew him too. He was an honorable man, and my friend."

"I'm sorry." She swallowed, not knowing what else to say.

He shrugged coldly. "There is little that can be done now." He continued eating quietly.

She picked at her food, and sat in uncomfortable silence. He finished his meal, nodded to her and left.

She sighed, dumped the rest of her food, and started towards her quarters. But in the spirit of needing to poke her head in where it wasn't wanted, she felt the need to say something to Polenni. She knew she couldn't make things better, but it seemed for a short period, despite their obvious philosophical differences, like this woman was becoming a potential friend. So Havah's irresistible impulse took over, to patch things up, or shoot the whole thing down in flames. She headed for Polenni's quarters, ignoring the warning not to do so.

Polenni answered the door, and stood with a chilly gaze at Havah. Her eyes and nose were red. "What do you seek here?"

"I…" Havah faltered. "I was worried about you."

"I do not need your concern."

Havah sighed. This had been a bad idea. "Ok. Well, I'll go then…" She turned to leave and then stopped. "No, it's not ok. Kol told me that you were mourning your brother. I felt bad. I wanted to know you were alright. You look…I…""

Polenni rolled her eyes and stood back from the door and impatiently motioned Havah inside. There was a single candle burning at an altar with a small offering of food, and a small goblet of hal'chi, a Minbari juice with similar biochemical properties for Minbari that alcohol had for Humans. Most of the bottle of it was drained. Havah stood awkwardly, fiddling with her thumbs, as Polenni moved around to tend to the offering.

She cast a surly glance at Havah. "So he told you about my brother. What did he tell you?"

"Just that he died during the war with Earth."

"He was my twin, and he died at Proxima Three. In the transport that you blew up."

"Oh Jesus, Polenni!" Havah covered her mouth with a trembling hand. "I am so…so sorry!…I…"

Polenni stayed silent, letting the horror and discomfort sink into Havah.

"I…"

"Your apology cannot restore his life."

Havah shook her head, tears in her eyes. "No. No it can't. But, if I could go back and change things, not just your brother, but everything, change it so that none of it ever happened, I would! Please believe that I would…I know that must sound lame to you…It's bad enough to lose a brother, but I can only imagine what it must be like to be untwinned…"

Polenni said nothing for another moment. "No. You cannot…But I suppose that as wishes go, there are worse…" She looked at Havah. "You were sincere when you said that you took no joy in their deaths."

Havah nodded vigorously, wiping wet streaks from her face.

Havah began to speak, but Polenni held up her hand. "I hated you." She looked at Havah again, and her eyes were chilling and haunted. "I hated you for years, when we learned how he had died. The thought of finding and destroying you kept me going on those first nights, when I could feel his absence. And when you came aboard, I did want to do as you suggested, and space you…." She looked down, and began talking into the goblet, finishing off the last bit of juice. "But then I saw you. And I hated you then too. Except that you didn't look the way I thought you would. We had called you Kal'tot. And even though the Kal'tot are supposed to look like us, I had somehow morphed you into something bigger…more…intimidating. And here you were with your spiky, messy hair, and your wrinkled uniform. You looked pathetic. That made me even angrier, that my brother could have fallen to this…scruffy little mongrel. But when I confronted you, you answered me truthfully. The Kal'tot are known for deception, but there was no guile in you. You cannot even hide the slightest thought that comes across your mind. It has become…increasingly difficult to harbor vengeful thoughts towards you." She cracked a tiny smile.

Havah swallowed, and took a deep breath. "Well…I'm glad to know that…I wouldn't want you as an enemy, not after having to fight you." She smiled weakly and took another breath. "I didn't know your brother, but I know that he was honoring your family in that war. Please forgive me."

Polenni stood for a moment, contemplating the bottom of the goblet, and then came over to Havah slowly, and looked deep into her eyes. After another moment, she extended her hand and nodded.

Havah took her hand gratefully. "Thank you."

This wasn't about what either of them, Havah or Polenni's brother, had found it necessary to do during the war. It was about years of pain for the people left behind. That pain was naked now between both of them, and they stood looking at it mirrored in each other's eyes for a few more moments, and then let some of it go, and left the rest alone for another time.

Polenni sighed and sat down, feeling the intoxication. "I am sorry too…This is the lot of the warrior caste. I suppose it does not differ among Humans."

Havah shook her head. "Not really." She sank to the floor and sat. "Kol knew him too?"

"Yes. They were close friends."

"Is that how you know Kol?"

"Yes, we grew up near one another, and then progressed through school and training, all together."

Havah sighed. "I'm surprised he was willing to talk to me."

Polenni cracked a sardonic smile. "A fact that I'm sure is of immense irritation to him. I think he likes you, despite his instincts." She looked down her nose to indicate that she meant more than simple affinity.

"WHAT?" Havah's eyes popped. "Wha-uhh…but…but I thought that you and he…"

Polenni snorted and waved her hand. "He and I? NO! He leaned towards me a few years ago, but I rejected him. It would never work."

"But…but, how can you tell, I mean, he's…"

"Not as expressive as a Human? No. But, I can tell."

"How?"

"I do not know, I just can."

"But I'm…"

"Part Human, yes. Which is why I'm sure he's delightfully annoyed with himself. Besides, after watching a few of his past relationships, I can say with conviction that he is not exactly picky!…No offense!"

Havah paused in confusion, opened her mouth, took in the insult, let it go, and then just sat looking perplexed again. "But…what do you mean he's not picky. How many relationships has he been in?"

"In Valen's name, I'm not talking about life-mates."

"But I thought that Minbari didn't take lovers? I thought that relationships were monitored closely by the clan or caste, and there were twenty-million rituals binding the couple before they even…joined?"

"And who told you that? Someone from the religious caste?"

Havah chewed on her lip. "Well…Yeah…And Alyt Neroon."

"Your father and a bunch of priests…" Polenni just raised her eyebrow ridge.

"Oh." Havah pursed her lips.

"Certainly, we do not take life-mates carelessly, and we do not produce children without thought to our families. And we are certainly more discreet about our…activities than I imagine Humans are. But our ships are a-drift for long periods of time, with the same people in the same space for all that time. Our work on our shifts is not exactly challenging most of the time. In fact it can be dreadfully monotonous, punctuated by moments of terror if something happens. What better way to relieve tension, aside from tournaments and an occasional drink? Did you think we sat around poring over scrolls?"

Havah cocked her head. "Well, no."

Polenni laughed for the first time that week. "Good. I was beginning to wonder what else the religious caste had told you about us."

"That you take your heads off every night and store them in formaldehyde…Just kidding. So what do I do about Kol?"

"What do you mean, what do you do about him? Either go with him, or do not! Whatever you choose though, be discreet! It becomes shameful when it is broadcast across the ship!"

"Ok, so don't let him run my underwear up a flagpole. But should I?—"

Polenni threw her hands up. "Ah!…You are on your own in this matter. I'm not interfering!"

Havah sighed and leaned back, looking for another bottle of that hal'chi.

A messenger came to her room as she was readying herself to go on duty again, an Anla Shok. He was a new face, and a painfully young one. _How early are they letting them in now?_ She wondered, staring at the solemn young Human. She motioned him to the uncomfortable comm link chair, but he remained standing.

"Anlashok Na," he began formally, "I have news from Babylon 5. A Psi-cop, Alfred Bester paid a visit to Captain Sheridan and warned him of a shipment of weapons being transported, escorted by Shadow vessel. They retrieved the weapons. They were Human telepaths, cryonically frozen. The telepaths were meant for insertion into Shadow battle cruisers, we think. So, Babylon 5 security has begun screening for telepaths who would be willing to ride in our ships when we face the Shadows, in order to disrupt the functioning of their vessels. That is the other news. We need them now. The Shadows have begun attacking openly."

"Where?"

"A number of places. Here are the most recent reports." He handed her a crystal, and she viewed it with dismay. "The refugees are beginning to come in to Babylon 5, and to a number of other neighboring areas, mostly in Sector 83."

"At least there are refugees. That means some of them are surviving."

He nodded, but didn't reply. It was a small consolation, and very little for those who were losing their homes and families. There was no more waiting, no more hoping that the Shadows would pick up their ball and go home. They weren't. War was here.

"Any other news?" She asked, as she began packing her meager things, and preparing to see the Alyt to announce her active duty to the Anla Shok.

"Yes…Entilzah Sinclair has asked that you remain here until an assault is planned against the Shadows."

"What? Why? Did he say?"

"No. He did not…But, Alyt Neroon came out of the Entilzah's office just before I was given my orders. The Entilzah did not look very…pleased. I tried not to listen, but it sounded as though they were arguing…about you."

"I'll kill 'im!…Not the Entilzah…Neroon!" She quickly recomposed her features before the uncomfortable man. "Thank you. If you'll wait a moment." She went into the computer and downloaded her orders and instructions for the implementation of syndromic, veterinary, and agricultural surveillance systems on certain worlds that had agreed to provide data from their hospitals, acute care clinics, veterinary diagnostic laboratories, field veterinarians, and farmers, about what they were seeing. The Shadows were a powerful enemy, and clearly not above using biological or chemical warfare, and using attacks on basic infrastructure to make their attacks more successful. Weaken the enemy first. That is what they would be likely to do, and such attempts could be a precursor to a full-scale invasion. She indicated who the syndromic data was to go to, for analysis, and handed him the data crystal, with an inquiry for Entilzah Sinclair concerning clarification on her orders to remain on the Yanazha. He bowed deeply and left. For her, there would be more waiting.

18


	25. Chapter 25

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 25—Recreation and Revelation

The reply from Sinclair was not encouraging. That Neroon had pressed him was obvious, threatening to force her removal from the Anla Shok unless Sinclair complied, although the diplomatic human never admitted it. He had known it would drive the gulf wider between her and her father. But Havah didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure it out. The reasoning Sinclair gave her for his orders was that her service to the warrior caste would provide her with vital experience they would need, since the loss of so many warrior caste among the Anla Shok. And she had been able, thus far, to collaborate with him sufficiently, while aboard the war cruiser, despite the distance. His face was unhappy and his tone morose, as he counseled her to remain patient, and promised to recall her to fight with the Anla Shok, when the time came to move, regardless of what her father had to say. She closed the message disconsolately, envisioning with zest the verbal brawl she was going to engage in with Neroon when she saw him next. In the meantime, there was nothing she could do. Any message bearing contents concerning the Rangers had to be either sent in a coded message, or delivered by Anla Shok. Neroon would not think to uncode a message from her in that way, and she couldn't really justify using an Anla Shok to get into a tiff with a family member. She dismissed the messenger with gratitude, and satisfied herself with going to the practice hall and picturing Neroon's face and assorted body parts thumping, as her pike hit the practice targets.

The dreams were back. Havah twisted in her covers.

The stench issuing from the fitting she was replacing in the settlement tank was powerful, and leaked through the edges of the mask. She wrinkled her nose and repressed a gag reflex.

"_You didn't have to do that, speak up as you did. It may have ruined your career." The young man looked at her softly before wrenching loose the joint he was working on. It came loose, and raw waste trapped in the joint spattered onto his uniform. "Ugh." He grimaced. _

"_What career? I am nineteen years and only a hanad, like you. I do not have a career yet."_

"_And you may stay one because of this. Why did you risk so much?"_

"_Why did you?"_

"_Because I have a big mouth and do not know when to shut it."_

_Turanni giggled. She was stuck refitting the pipes in the waste recycling settlement tank, with a nose full of excrement, probably until Minbar froze again. But at least she was stuck with someone who could make her laugh about it. "Well, so do I…And I think that you are right." She twitched and bit her bruised lip through the mask. _

_He nodded. _

_Something had been preying on the Minbari, in space. Just as it had ten years ago. Ships were disappearing again, not reporting back. And instead of pouring resources into real investigation, the clans were suspecting one another, just like they had ten years ago, because of circumstantial indications that it had been one or another clan. But the idea, when dissected, was illogical. And she seethed with indignation at her treatment and at their refusal to even consider other possibilities. She peeped a look at the young man, under her eyelashes, as she worked. He was tall, handsome, with a regal headbone that rose in even, intricate spikes. The bruises on his face just made his jaw look stronger. He was brave too. He had been there when the news came in that one of the other Star Rider ships had failed to report in. Debris was found, indicating that they'd been destroyed. They were supposed to rendezvous with a Wind Sword ship, and transfer the patrol to them, but when that ship arrived, late, there was nothing but glittering space dust. _

_The superior officers were implicating the Wind Sword ship, and this young man, Trelann, was his name, had stood up for them. "But you don't know that!…Na? What other evidence is there to suggest that it was them? What about other races? There is something else out there. The Wind Swords would attack openly!" _

_He was backhanded for his impudence at challenging a superior officer. _

_Remembering the clan battle, ten years previously, Turanni stepped in between him and the officer penalizing him. "He's right, Na, please! It doesn't make sense."_

_She was thrown to the ground, hauled up, hands bound, and made to march to the stockade, where they were given corporal punishment and relegated to shifts in the waste-recycling unit until further notice. If they would not stand up for their own clan, then there were other uses for them!_

"_Do you think I am a coward?" He asked tentatively looking at her._

"_What? No! Or if you are, then so am I. It's stupid to assume that it's other Minbari doing this. We've had other enemies before, why not now? I can't believe that after what happened ten years ago, they're still jumping at the opportunity to call each other out! It's STUPID! And I don't care if they leave me in here forever…well, I do, but I'm not going to murmur reverently that they are right all the time, when they aren't!" She threw down the pipe she was cleaning in a fit of pique, and the slop splashed happily all over the floor at his feet. "Ooh! Sorry, but they make me so angry!"_

_He smirked. "It's alright. At least I know that I will have company quite a few more times then." He glanced over slyly, and flicked a wet chunk of cake in her direction, with a heavily gloved finger. It hit her smock and stuck like a wad of putty._

"_That's disgusting, stop it!"_

_He grinned and did it again. _

"_Stop it, we'll get in trouble!"_

"_We're already in trouble!"_

"_Infant!" She gouged a large cake out and lobbed it at him. _

_It hit him in the back as he turned, collapsing in laughter, eyes wrinkling at the edge of his mask. _

"_What is so funny, you miscreant!" She stomped over and began punching him, as he laughed even harder._

"_You're as much of a miscreant as I am, and look, you were the one afraid of getting into trouble and now you're beating me up! Don't you think that will attract attention?" He grabbed her wrists and held them, pulling her over onto the ground and pinning her, when she paused. _

"Cheater!" She looked up into the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. "Get off me! You stink!"

Havah murmured and rolled over onto her stomach and slid down the incline of the bed until her feet dangled.

"They're flanking the Enfili! Yanazha, pull back and cover their left side! Antatha, hostiles at 24 degrees hard right!"

Valen confirmed the orders she relayed to them, as they were swarmed by colossal black spidery ships. The Yanazha crumpled one of the ships with continuous fire, covered, in turn, by the Antatha, but not before a beam sheared through the damaged Enfili, rupturing the anti-proton containment tanks. Trelann's ship erupted in a blaze of plasma, and Turanni sat down hard, winded, as the crew shielded their eyes against the light of the blast. She stared at it, blazing red against her retinas, feeling his soul withdraw through the hole in the universe, pulling a vital chunk of her with him into vacuum. Her husband, her twin.

Havah screamed and choked in her sleep.

Sinclair was standing in front of her trying to say something, flanked by two Guardians, with white ethereal wings. Angels, Havah thought. He was speaking in an ancient version of Light Minbari, but as she got close to hear what he was saying, he began fading into air. Just before he vanished, the lines of his face and head blurred, and she could see the outline of a bone crest, and thought she saw the face of Valen, as Turanni had seen him, and then the wings enclosed him and he was gone.

She opened her eyes, overwhelmed with a sense of urgency. It wouldn't be long now. Wouldn't be long before what? It was a long time yet before her watch, as she closed her eyes, the image of the exploding ship floating behind her eyelids, Sinclair's voice uttering fading words that she couldn't catch.

The next shift occupied her with a few live targeting drills. She held the controls reverently, peering through the reticle at a chunk of rock, imagining she could feel the power coursing through them as she adjusted the field of fire of the emitter, locked and fired. The rock vaporized as the matter and antimatter ripped each other apart.

Her superior officer piped into her earpiece. "Well done. The previous targeting problems seem to have been resolved, but we'll run more drills to be certain."

"Yes, Na." She sat, silent for a few moments.

"Is everything alright, ranat?"

"Yes, Na." The beams were vivid in her memory, ripping through Geezus' little Star Fury, next to her on the Line. So effortless.

"It is different from this end, is it not?" The earpiece replied, as though the shai ranat had read her mind.

"Yes, Na." She said sadly.

He said nothing further for a moment, respecting her memories, and then instructed her to select another target.

At the meal, Polenni asked, "What do you do after this meal? You always go off to your quarters and seclude yourself. Do you meditate?"

"No. I go to the training area sometimes to practice. I usually go before my shift though, because if I don't do it at the beginning of the day, I may lose the momentum to do it, and it's not that crowded then."

"Is that all? You practice fighting, do your shift, eat and sleep?"

"…No. I read and listen to music, in my quarters. Sometimes I go up to the observation deck. A lot of the activities in the recreation center require more than one person, and I don't really know anyone except you two. I…am not good at meeting new people sometimes."

"Well, why don't you go with us? And why do you not know anyone from the Star Riders?"

"Well, there was no opportunity to meet them really. And when I first came aboard, the one I marched after did not seem particularly inclined to talk to me."

"Hmm. They needed time to get used to you. Now that you have participated in the tournament, and word has spread about your standing up to your orders concerning the rebellious hanad, people will know a little more of you than your Humanity. But you have to make yourself more visible, and not hide in your quarters."

"I'm not hiding! Yes, I'd like to go with you next time you go to the rec center. Thank you."

Polenni hid a smirk. "As you say."

The recreation center was bustling with activity. There were Minbari playing a number of different types of strategy games, some of the games Havah had seen in the community hall in Tuvuri at their thanksgiving festival. Others were new to her. One of them used little colored stones, and could be won by the accumulation of differing patterns of nine stones in specified clusters or groupings. Other games utilized more technology. Virtual holographic suites provided scenarios for crew-members to test their hand-eye coordination against one another. There were crystal ports for music and Minbari performing-arts recordings, and links to home-world providing daily programming, and communications, so that they had a connection to current Minbari events, and to their families. There were meditation rooms, throughout the ship, for those so inclined. There was a refreshment area, for communal eating of victuals not supplied by the mess, things sent from home. And there was a stocked stand of other refreshments, for snacking and drinking. Two Minbari were sitting at the tables sharing bowls of beans, cups of hal'chi, and talking. It was to them that Polenni and Kol went, with Havah tagging along. The tall ranat from the boarding ceremony was there. Polenni formally introduced her. "Ranat Kilshinn of the family of Hadir, this is Ranat Lassee of the family of Callier. Havah, this is Ranat Kilshinn, and Ranat Ashar of the family of Hadir. They are also Star Riders, as you know."

Havah wondered idly if the two were brothers, although there was not much resemblance. She smiled awkwardly and waved. "Howdy."

"Ranat Lassee. Yes, we have been aware of you." Ranat Kilshinn spoke wryly, confirming her suspicion that she had been watched since she came aboard. "We are…cousins, you and I, and he. He and I are brothers. I am the elder." He indicated Ashar. Kilshinn filled a few empty cups with hal'chi and pushed them to the newcomers. He nodded to Havah. "You did well in handling the incident with Hanad Vaal and Shai Ranat Lidann. Drink."

"Thank you." Havah picked up the cup and brought it to her nose and looked at the rose colored liquid. It smelled like blackberries, very pleasant.

"Have you ever had hal'chi?" Polenni asked her.

"No."

"It has a bit more of a bite than the juices you may have had among the religious caste. And it is not allowed during military training, including Anla Shok." She grinned and took a long swig.

Havah tasted it. It had a sweet pungent taste unlike any of the fruits she had ever tasted, and it melted and dissolved on her tongue like cotton candy. A warm feeling suffused her stomach and all of her limbs. She quickly guzzled the contents of her cup.

Kilshinn held up his hand. "Slowly. The effects are cumulative. It is an intoxicant, with effects not unlike alcohol has on Humans, but longer lasting. We have all been drinking it since…since our fifteenth summer. If you have never had it before... You must be sober for your shift. Here. These help to mitigate the effect in your blood, making the intoxication more level." He pushed the bowl of beans towards her.

"What are they?" She took a handful of the dark red beans and popped them in her mouth. The ranat's eyes widened, and he laughed, shaking his head, as a fire enflaming her entire head and gullet began.

"They are terkala beans. I meant for you to take only a couple." He said as they all laughed at her choking, with tears streaming down her face. "Again, we have all been eating these since childhood. If you are not used to the heat of such food…" He laughed. "You are like a child, sticking everything in your mouth that is given to you."

"I'm…ok…I'm used to Mexican food." She sputtered, breathing through the burn, of the beans, and embarrassment. "You've never had habanero peppers, so I guess we're even."

"You will have to have some sent."

"What does 'howdy' mean? Hello?" Polenni asked curiously.

"Yeah. It's short for 'How do you do?'"

"Howdy." She tried it. "That is a very silly sounding word."

"Don't tell that to a Texan."

"What is a Texan?"

"It's a region on Earth."

"Oh, one of the states that we read about in your history."

"Yeah."

Ashar spread out a nine-sided cloth playing board and took out an ornate case with the polished colored stones that she had seen coming in. He distributed handfuls of different colored stones to the other four. He addressed Havah. "This is jo'shetha. Have you ever played?"

"No. How do you play?"

"Pick a corner of the board and order your stones along the edges however you like. You may only move one stone at a time at first. And the goal is to move your stones first, into a design agreed upon." He drew a configuration on a sheet of paper. "This is what it will be, this time. It can change each game. If you achieve three stones in the configuration, then you may move two stones at once, four stones in the configuration, then you may move three. Do you understand?"

"Yes. It sounds very complex."

"It is. It is good for positioning troops. And it is very nice to look at, the longer one has been drinking this." He held up his cup and smiled. "And much more difficult."

Havah sat down at the board. "So how come I never saw this drink much before on Minbar?"

"It was around, but enjoyed more among the warrior and worker castes. The religious caste disdains the consumption of anything that alters the chemical functioning of the brain, except during specific ceremonies, such as the Dreaming. They believe that one should achieve altered states only by meditation! Hmph!…Meditation has its place, but so does this!" Ashar held up his cup, and took a healthy gulp. "We do not have the leisure time of the religious caste!" He moved a piece into place. They played and talked about the day, about various people they knew in common, about politics, as the shapes grew on the board.

"What do you suppose will happen now, with the Council disbanded? Do you suppose Delenn will try to move the religious caste into a ruling position?" Ashar asked, concern apparent in his voice.

"Shai Alyt Shakiri will never allow that. Nor will Alyt Neroon." Polenni said, nodding briefly towards Havah.

"Will he re-form the Council?"

"I don't think he can." Kilshinn interjected. "He holds a lot of power, but the fracture is too large now, the dissent. There would have to be a demonstration of leadership to the other two castes before he could pull them together under him."

"Will Delenn then?"

"Same problem. The warrior caste will never listen to her. So what will they do, form the Council without a military to back it up?"

"What about someone from the worker caste? They're kind of neutral in this, aren't they? And you can't have anything without architects and engineers. No ships, no buildings, nothing." Havah ventured.

They all looked at her, and she shrunk into her seat. "Sorry. It was just a thought."

Polenni shook her head. "No…It is an interesting thought…and true. But no one among the worker caste is really in such a position of leadership now. They are generally more focused on operations…task-oriented. Except for their own projects and professions, many are not interested in more global management functions, where it applies to the other castes."

"Have they ever done so in the past?"

"…No…I do not think so." Polenni and the others looked at each other, searching memory. "It has always been this way. Leadership has always been taken by the warrior or religious castes, and the worker caste members of the council informed on what resources they had and what resources were needed to perform their tasks. They advised on logistics during war-time, what resources we would need from them, and during peace-time they focused on municipal and civic matters."

"So what now, now that there is no Council?" Havah asked.

They exchanged worried looks. "No one knows." Ashar said, staring hard at his remaining colored stones.

"We existed for centuries without a Grey Council, we can do so again. There is still the Council of Caste Elders. They have been around for far longer." Kol said reassuringly. "Besides, this Council, even with the predominance of warriors, was not functioning correctly." He shook his head regretfully. "I have not wanted to say it, but it is true. It took far too long for the warrior caste to be heeded in the Council, and the religious caste has simply been doing as they please anyway. In an odd way, Delenn may have done us a favor to dissolve it. A government should be effective and represent the best interests of the people. When it fails to do this, it should be altered until it does. The Grey Council was supposed to represent the Minbari people! It has been a long time, I think, since this was the case. How can they represent us when they are so far removed from our society and our lives and our realities, when they do not even know us anymore?"

Polenni glanced at him with shock at his brazen words, and glanced nervously at Havah, whose father had been a member of the Council.

But Kol continued. "No…I will not feign respect anymore, especially not to a Council that doesn't exist. That does not mean that I do not respect individuals who were on it." He looked at Havah. "Alyt Neroon worked very hard to improve the Council. But he was blocked too often by Delenn, even after she was gone. That woman had a way of working herself into everything! The Council itself was no longer effective. They were immobilized by dissent."

Havah held up her hands. "Hey, I don't know enough about your politics recently to argue with you. All I can say is that we're having problems with our own government. In fact, it was written into our Constitution that if a government fails to represent the people, it should be changed. That is what a government 'of the people, by the people, and for the people' means. It's not an original idea. But our current President has thrown the Constitution right out the window. He even dissolved our Senate, sort of like the Grey Council, but with a whole lot more people, and represented by region rather than caste. So I understand your dilemma better than you might think."

"So what now? How have Humans reacted to the dissolution of their Council?" Kilshinn asked, interested.

"They're outraged. But there isn't anything they can do. He declared martial law and instituted acts stating that anyone who speaks out against him or his current policy is a traitor or subversive. They are arrested and taken away. And who knows what happens to them after that."

"But how is he being supported in this, does the military support him? He must gain his power from somewhere."

"He is backed by an agency called the Ministry of Peace. Their arms and legs are the Nightwatch, a sub-organization."

"But how has he garnered their support? He must have convinced them somehow that he was right."

"Well, he's scared people into compliance. There was a man a long time ago, a few hundred years, named Hermann Goering. He was the Reich-Marshall of the Nationalist Party in Germany in the mid-twentieth century. His regime committed terrible war crimes, and most of the country went along with it, not because they were bad or dishonorable people, but because his regime used a powerful tactic. He said that 'voice or no voice, people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger.' Clark is using exactly this tactic, spurring up people's fear of chaos and mixing it in with racial pride. He plays jingles and gives people pride in all things Human, and then makes them think that our way of life is being threatened by infiltrators, aliens, and alien-sympathizers…Unfortunately…he's right…just not in the way he's telling people."

"I do not understand."

"The threats to government aren't the people who are speaking out against him. It is the ones he's listening to that are the danger."

"His advisors?"

"…Yes. There are beings that are influencing everything he does. He is not in complete control."

"Beings? They are not Human?"

"No."

Darkness crept across Kilshinn's face, along with anger. "The Vorlons have been whispering in the religious caste's ears for the past two years! At first, I was intrigued to have a Vorlon representative on our world. But no longer. They do nothing but incite the religious caste into zealous frenzies concerning prophecy, but never have they demonstrated evidence for any manifestations of the prophesied events. They refuse to even show their faces!"

Havah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, envisioning the many-legged manifestations currently warbling in the corners of the Presidential Offices. It was a mistake to say anything, but she had never been good at knowing when to keep her mouth shut. "They are right about one of the prophecies."

The others just stared at her.

"The Shadows are real. I know because I've seen them. They're the ones working in my government. In fact, they've begun attacking other worlds now, right now." Now they'd think she was insane and stop talking to her again.

But her remark didn't garner the dismissing looks she expected. Only disbelieving questions. "What do you mean, you've seen them? You mean the attacks going on in the non-aligned worlds?" Kilshinn asked incredulously.

"Yes! Don't you read current events at all?"

"How do you know these ships are the same as those we fought a thousand years ago?"

"Because they're the same configuration."

"What evidence do you have of this?"

"Ambassador G'Kar has pictures of them from a thousand years ago, when they were attacking the Narns."

"Pictures?"

"In the Book of G'Quonn."

"A religious text." Kol said drily. "You're basing that entire assumption on a doodle in a religious text…A NARN religious text."

"What is it with you and religion? And it's not a doodle! It is a careful description, and the account matches the patterns we've seen."

"You mentioned that you'd seen them. Where?" Kilshinn piped in again, curious.

"I've seen them on a vid recording, standing near someone. It was captured on camera for a brief second. And I've seen data on their ships."

"How do you know this data was reliable?"

She paused. "I guess I don't, but it came from a reliable source, a few scientists. I have some experience in their field, so it looked authentic to me."

"How do you know that these ships, and bogeys that you saw for a split second on a vid, are from the same race?"

"Because the man who gave permission for the ships to be investigated was the same one surrounded by these beings on the vid."

"If he gave permission so easily, how do you know that the data wasn't planted? And how do you know that these beings are involved in your government?"

"I guess I don't!" She was getting annoyed. "But that same man has been involved in moving funds and giving plans for implementation to the President. How do you know that the religious caste is planning to usurp your place among the Minbari people?"

They all glowered at her. But after a moment of tense silence, Kol spoke up. "You have not shared our experience with them. That is why you do not understand."

"Well, you haven't shared mine. I wasn't imagining things. Two of the Anla Shok died trying to get me that information. Someone or something was after them. Who do you suppose it was, if it wasn't someone who doesn't want to be discovered? And how do you suppose people are dying now in the non-aligned worlds, spontaneous combustion?"

He shrugged. "Difficult to say…We have heard of the Shadows all our lives. So…what do they look like?"

"Like big spiders…" She remembered that none of the people to whom she was speaking had ever seen a spider. "They have six or eight legs with a few joints each. They look like insects."

"Are you certain that what you saw was not an insect crawling across the screen?" He smiled, teasing.

They all laughed. Havah just glared impatiently at him, crooking her jaw.

"And their ships? What do their ships look like?"

She had not seen them except in her dreams, but she wasn't about to tell them that now. "They're huge, black and spiky. The ships shimmer like they have skin. Smaller ships can bud out of the bigger ones. The big ones scream."

"They scream?" Polenni looked skeptical.

"So, the ships are like insects as well." Kol smirked.

"I guess."

"I think that you have a fear of insects."

"I think that you should bite me, and pay attention to your pieces!" Havah smartly moved in and surrounded him, cutting off his strategy.

He scowled. "Why would I bite you? That is not how we fight."

"It's an expression, Kol." She said, as the others snickered.

"You are the one who should pay attention." Ashar moved in and blocked every blooming pattern Havah had started.

Havah drove her hand into her forehead in frustration, and downed the rest of her cup. The room was nice and fuzzy. Kilshinn was right, the board patterns were even more fascinating now.

On the way back to their quarters, Havah called to Kol before he disappeared down his hallway. "Kol, wait! I want to ask you something, while I'm still affected by this Liquid Courage I've been drinking."

Polenni quickly disappeared.

He paused, looking quizzical, while Havah gathered herself. She blurted, "I heard that you liked me. Is that impression true, or am I way off? No big deal, just curious."

He looked truly puzzled. Oops, I guess I'm way off. How embarrassing. She thought. But then a light dawned on his face and he smiled slowly. "Ah…you mean sexual attraction?"

She fidgeted and turned several shades of red, through the blush that the drink had given her.

His look was gentle and amused. "I will admit that you are not…unattractive for someone of your…heritage. But I do not take lovers who are not fully of my caste…and race. I am sorry. I did not intend to give you the impression that such a thing was possible between us."

"No! No problem! Like I said, I was just curious. I wanted to get that out of the way is all. Sorry if I offended you in asking about it."

"You have not offended me. It is your face that is red." He grinned.

She scowled at him. He's pickier than you think, Polenni. She waved goodnight awkwardly, and went off down her hallway. He shook his head and disappeared down his.

She stared at the ceiling and let the embarrassment ebb. All that was left was a vague lonely dissatisfaction. Man, I didn't realize how much I'd like to shag someone right now. But Kol's face wasn't the one that popped to mind. As she dropped off to sleep, the thought of Felshenn, carefully cleaning his gun, pensive caramel eyes intent, drifted across her mind. A wave of intense loneliness swept across her as she floated half-awake. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, a wild roar echoed faintly through her mind and she had the brief image of one of those giant dragons of energy that she had witnessed in the Shelter, in her dreams. It was the Vorlon, the Guardian. And the sound was a scream of pure rage. She sat up. The only Vorlon remotely close to their location was Ambassador Ulkesh, on Minbar.

Two days later, news came from Babylon 5, the Vorlon fleet had engaged the Shadows in a skirmish…and won. But Ambassador Kosh was dead. Another Vorlon was being sent to replace him. The Ranger stood, awaiting her response. She nodded a thank you to him, and he left.

Havah sat at the edge of the bunk, overwhelmed by a memory of the sadness she had felt from the Kosh in her dream. He must have known. What is it like to know everything, including your own death, and not be able to tell anyone?

The following couple weeks were somewhat more pleasant. There was a bit of awkwardness between Kol and her for a day, but they quickly fell back into the pattern of constant ribbing that they'd begun after the jo'shetha game. The day following their encounter, the first thing out of his mouth was, "Crushed any million year-old insects last night?"

"Get bent!" Havah held her pounding head, snarled and shoved him in the midriff with a mule-kick, which barely moved him.

"That's not the proper address for a senior officer."

"Get bent, Na!"

"Ah, yes. That is proper."

Havah, Polenni, and Kol met in the mess, and then spent the evenings with Kilshinn and Ashar in the recreation center, playing jo'shetha, or one of the holo-hunting and shooting games, or watching vids. One night, Havah brought in a deck of cards and tried to teach them to play 'spoons' and 'bullshit'. 'Bullshit' went right over their heads, since it required lying, but 'spoons' seemed to become very popular. When one of them got rummy and everyone grabbed an implement from the table, the person left without one always ended by tackling the closest or least vigilant person with a fork, and wresting it from them, in order to avoid being 'out.' The game culminated for the evening, when Kol overturned the entire table, while landing on Kilshinn and wrestling him to the ground, meaty hands in a death grip around the fork handle. They lay in a guffawing pile, while senior officers cast disapproving glares their way, as Polenni, Havah and Ashar quietly tried to upright the table, spilled food, drink, and chairs.

Polenni was late. Very late. She had been out on maneuvers in one of the fighters. She should have been back two hours previously. Kol sat in the recreation center and fidgeted, compulsively eating beans and flipping stones, until Ashar grabbed one of the airborne stones in an annoyed fist and glared at him to stop. "She will be alright. She's one of the best pilots aboard."

He didn't answer, only grabbed the bottle of hal'chi and drained it in a long protracted guzzle, and started flipping stones again. A half an hour later, when the three of them were ready to tie his hands and feet to a chair, she walked in. Just walked. Usually Polenni strode everywhere with the slight characteristic swagger of someone who was confident in her abilities. She was typically very fair, but her face was paler than Havah had ever seen it and held none of that confidence now. She looked very, very scared. She sat down quietly, as the four waited for her to speak and explain what had happened. Now that she was surrounded by familiar faces, relief began to suffuse her features, and she spoke after a few moments. Her voice was even, but exhausted.

"Havah was right…" The hollows under her eyes deepened.

"About what?" Kilshinn asked cautiously.

"About the Shadows."

Kol began to roll his eyes, but stopped. His smirk melted away as he looked at her worn face. "What happened?"

"I was on maneuvers, as you know. We practiced hyperspace tactics, and after we were through, I took the right flank and we began to leave the jump-point, when I saw something on my sensors, something big. I sent the others back to the ship and stayed to see what it was. So, I shut the ship down to minimal energy output and tried to hide within the edge of a gravity well. And then I saw them. There were dozens of them, large ships, small ships. They appeared as if from nowhere at all. They looked exactly as you described, Havah. Black, shimmering, alive." She shuddered. "They either did not see me, or did not care. I do not know where they were going, but then, I was not tempted to hail them and ask. It looked as though they were heading for Centauri space. I am not fond of the Centauri, but if this is so, then for once I pity them…I used to imagine these ships in my nightmares when I was a child. My mother used to claim that if I did not obey her and stop teasing my brother, then the Shadows would come for me in giant black ships. I never believed…"

"They were tales to frighten you into obedience, Polenni! Come, you have never—"

"I saw them, Kol! With my own eyes! And my ship recorded them!"

"Where is the recording?" Ashar asked. Kol just swallowed hard and waited.

"Narsa Diri has it, but I made a copy before I was debriefed." She pulled a crystal from her coat. "No one knows I made this."

They all nodded silently, and surrounded a nearby port and pulled the screen close, as she slipped the crystal into the port.

There they were, a fleet of dark coruscating splatters against the flowing orange backdrop of hyperspace, shifting as though they were trying to melt off the screen. Kol let out the breath he'd been holding, and they all stared at each other.

"In Valen's name!" Kilshinn exclaimed.

"What now?" Kol asked quietly. There was no longer any trace of a smirk.

"Now, we wait. Alyt Rennir will have to make that decision, and we will obey it." Ashar said softly. The remaining time, until they each retired for the shift, was subdued.

16


	26. Chapter 26

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 26—Homecoming

Sound traveled strangely in the air around Havah, as she paced slowly through the hall, surrounded by the chambers housing the gravitational coils. The thrum muted the air. The officer on duty, awaiting her relief, showed Havah the pre-fusion and fusion chambers into which the raw deuterium was channeled. She explained the function briefly, assuming the Human already knew, from reviews of the ship specs. But it was a different thing entirely to view the system with Havah's own eyes. The equations governing the processes were completely beyond Havah, and in fact beyond any but the engineers on the ship. Thermal energy was conducted into the pre-fusion chamber to heat the deuterium to near-plasma temperatures. It was then piped into toruses in the fusion chamber, which were surrounded by gravitic coils. The gravity field, modulated by the coils, compressed the deuterium atoms until they fused, releasing photons which were trapped by surrounding banks of crystals, like jagged glittering rows of teeth. The waste products, like helium, were funneled into storage for the hyperspace navigation system. From the banks, the crystal batteries could be removed and plugged into the propulsion system to power gravitic coils, which created and projected a gravity well in whichever direction the ship needed to move.

The officer left, and Havah began her inspections of the cold back-up coils. There were three pre-fusion, and fusion chambers, and three sets of coils for the propulsion drive, one active, and two back-ups. As she sat staring at the coils in awe, it struck her how truly advanced the Minbari were. If the sight of their hyperspace navigation and weapons hadn't brought the point home, there was no escaping it here. One thought overrode all else. The Minbari could control gravity. She had known that from her review of the White Star systems, but there had never been time for that to sufficiently sink in. Not only could they control gravity, but they appeared to control it in conjunction with a grand unified theory that gave them the ability to utilize a number of systems which, for humans, still remained completely elusive and tantamount to sorcery. If anything could have made her feel like a primitive monkey, this was it. None of the thinly masked Minbari condescension meant a damn until she saw this. They were and had been thousands of years ahead of everyone else except the mysterious Guardians, and Shadows, for hundreds of years before the war with the weak primates they seemed to seek the friendship of now. And despite their mastery of physics, despite their apparent ability to completely annihilate a species not far above cave-dwellers in comparison, they had stopped and surrendered…because of a conviction. No wonder the warriors were angry. How could the knowledge of this kind of power not completely fill their minds?

And the Vorlons seemed like remote gods to many of the Minbari, their technology making Minbari marvels of physics seem like crude child's play. She shivered in the chamber, thinking of the floating entity she had seen emerge from the encounter suit, unchanged since her vision of it a thousand years earlier. If the Minbari had come close to mastering gravity, had the Vorlons mastered time, and existence outside of de Sitter space? What limits were left for them in this galaxy? Yet here they were, shrouded in the corners of Minbari temples. Her head throbbed and she resumed her tasks solemnly.

This was what it meant to be in charge, what it meant to be satai, a federal council member. "Will you follow me into fire? Will you follow me into darkness? Will you follow me into death?" Valen had asked them in the ceremony that cemented their new organization and positions, after the approval of the caste elders. "We will," they had answered. It had seemed a simple enough answer then. We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the star. Whatever path we choose must be a shurok edge, as strong and complex as a superstring, between the seething needs of all our people and the galaxy they are tossed through, like motes in a tide. We have only the data of the past to help us imagine dimly the future, and on this thready film of information we must act, we must choose a course that will effect millions, even billions. Turanni trod heavily through hall of the great war ship, headed for home and an empty bed. He would have helped, she thought. She wouldn't even have had to speak of things forbidden outside of council chambers. He would have known only that she was troubled and would have found a way, through the empathy of the life-bonded, to help her feel conviction in her part of the council's decision in this matter. But he was star-dust now, and there was only the prickly presence of the Guardians, from whom they could view only reflections of possible futures, like silhouettes through opaque crystal.

The engineer had come to the council with an announcement, flushed with excitement, at the end of the war, with a new proposal for the ending of all other wars. The project's form had been hidden by the perfectionist guild until its completion, and its presence now, within the deepest sanctuary of the Shelter changed the galaxy, roiling the atoms of her thoughts until they each took on the weight of twisted black holes. The door, marked with nine stars opened slowly…and the possibility of seeing the object within the chamber vanished, as the dream shifted into obtuse nightmare. Havah moaned in frustration and horror as she viewed the sole occupant of the altered dream chamber, surrounded by gravitic coils pulling and distorting his shape, cruelly twisting his Human form. Sinclair. He doubled and folded, and screamed as the waves tore him apart through time and space, and ridges of sharp bone cut through scalp where hair used to be, and his face took on a shape she had known and knew now a thousand years later. Valen.

Havah opened her eyes to the unchanging ceiling of her quarters as her waking alarm chimed.

No word had come from Alyt Rennir concerning the crystal recording of the Shadow vessels, and the five companions waited tensely, subsuming their thoughts beneath games of 'spoons' and cups of hal'chi, laughing more heartily at small things than anyone really felt. The ship would dock at the home-world soon, for shore leave of a couple days.

Polenni and Kol went to visit family. Kilshinn prepared to meet his fiancée for the final ceremony before joining, and to oversee the meeting of the two families. "You should accompany me, as a clan member, and a cousin. It is important for you to be involved in the rest of the clan, and certainly in affairs concerning our family. If you have never sat in attendance at a pleasure ritual, this is a good time."

Havah's face burned crimson at the thought of hearing her relative, distant though he may be, in the throes of passion. "Uh…" She stuttered, not wanting to insult him, but desperately wanting to be anywhere else. "I…uh…I can't. I'm sorry. You are absolutely right, I should be there. But this time, I can't. I must see Entilzah Sinclair about a matter." That was the truth.

He pursed his lips disapprovingly, but didn't argue the point. "Very well. This time. But I, we, expect you to be present for the marriage ceremony and to become involved in clan matters. You are not only a student of your father, you belong to all of us."

She balked at the use of the term 'belong'.

He just shook his head as he reviewed the immaculate state of his quarters. "Humans are spooked by the strangest things. I do not understand why any of these ideas should make you so uneasy. Joining with another is a natural part of life, and the families that are created from unions are networks of people, all linked to one another. Why should this seem such a terrible thing? I thought that Human families were not that different from our own."

"They're not…I guess we're just not always as formal about it. I guess some are. I have Italian friends who all get together for every event that happens in anybody's life. They're all in each other's business all the time. I always loved visiting them for Christmas and Thanksgiving and everything else, but my Italian friends always complained about that aspect of their family lives, and I could see how that might get kind of…intrusive sometimes. My mom…my adopted mom always gives me a huge guilt trip if I don't call her for a while to let her know what is going on in my life."

He looked at her peculiarly. "Of course, and why should she not? You are her child, you are linked. This fear of…intrusion…Humans do not at first seem to be so private. You pour your every thought all over anyone who stands still long enough to listen. I would not think one could avoid being 'in everyone else's business' in a Human family. I wonder that your race even needs telepaths."

She grinned. "And Minbari seem to be all privacy, I'm surprised that there is such a strong sense of ownership."

"Reservation is different from privacy, and privacy has its place. We do not display our thoughts crudely or without consideration, precisely because we are all connected. We cannot but acknowledge the ownership to each other. It is simply reality." He smiled and went to meet his beloved, leaving Havah to her business.

The room was dim, revealing crags in Sinclair's face that weren't there the last time she'd seen him. The scar on his cheek was livid, as a symphony of emotions all suffused his face at once: bewilderment, awe, anger, grief, determination, serenity, and strangely, resignation. His quarters were nearly bare, and had the feeling of vacancy.

He looked up from meditation. "Hello, old friend."

"You weren't even going to say goodbye? You were just going to leave?" Havah said, stepping in as he concluded, eliciting a distinctly guilty look from him as he wearily rose.

_Just like I did…so long ago, _she thought.

"I sent a message." He said apologetically.

"I'll get it when I return, I guess." She stood in front of him. Neither of them knew what to say, or who should speak first.

He did, puzzled. "How did you know I was leaving?"

She shrugged.

He started to speak again, to say that he was going to Babylon 5, on a mission, and she should return to her duty aboard the Yanazha, and that others could handle command until his return, but they had known each other too long for the half-truth. And so he fell silent, and went instead to a drawer and took out a few data crystals. He took her hand and laid them in her palm. She fingered them each in turn.

"You are the one who always appreciated them the most. They need a good home, and they can't come with me."

She just looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Tennyson." He said. "Catherine hated them, even though she could recite all of the poems by heart. That was my fault."

Havah smiled. "I know. Thank you…So what now?"

"Now…now, you finish your tour of duty, and return to command the Rangers when you are done…if that is what you still want. I will understand if you do not, or if your father has changed his mind about allowing you to remain."

"My father doesn't own my decision, I do. And I still choose the Anla Shok…but not as its leader…not now." She gestured down at her ranat's uniform. "Many of the Minbari Rangers are religious and worker caste. I do not think they would be so comfortable with someone of my…background, any more."

"Many of the Rangers are also Human. And they may be wary at first, because of the association with the warrior caste, but they know you and trust you."

She nodded sadly. "True. But the Humans do not need me, or anyone, as much as the Minbari Rangers need someone they feel comfortable with, and they fear Neroon. I think they are nervous about his connection to me. They are more sensitive, in odd ways, than the Humans."

"I understand." He looked at her carefully. "The choice is yours. Give it some thought. There is a little time, I think. I'm glad to hear that you are staying, in any case. The Anla Shok would be very sorry to lose you. You've come a long way." He took her by the shoulders.

As he looked down into her eyes, she could see tatters of dream trailing from his head, wreathed like a phantom crest. "I'm sorry, Na." She said suddenly.

The confusion was back, as he cocked his head, brown eyes soft. "For what?"

"For failing you." Her eyes suddenly flooded.

His brow furrowed in concern. "Because of your wish to refuse a promotion? I think you're crazy," he grinned trying to lighten her solemnity, "but that's a matter of option, something no one can decide for you."

She shook her head, almost laughing, wraiths of a dusty defeated world floating around her, drowning the cries of a Minbari child. _We are become Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the star._ "It's not that." A tear slid down her face.

He looked even more puzzled. "What is it, Havah?…"

She didn't answer, just stood, eyes closed, fumbling for words, seeking absolution for some slight she couldn't articulate.

He spoke intensely. "You haven't failed me. You have never failed me. Don't ever think that."

She looked down and let out a long breath. _I bet you won't say that a thousand years from now._ But there was nothing more to say, and it was time for him to go. She swiped her face and let him pull her into a long hug that they both knew would be the last. She pocketed the data crystals, grasped his forearms, and left him to the tide of time.

Felshenn repressed an odd feeling of…relief when Havah trounced in, unharmed and as annoying as ever. Her hair had begun to grow out a little, rounding her cheeks. "You again?" He drawled. "I had heard that the ship was docking for shore leave. I see you have managed to avoid being spaced, or caged and brought home in shame."

He'd heard about that even here. "I didn't do anything to risk your precious Star Rider honor!"

"I am a Moon Shield. It is your family's honor that I am worried about." He retorted, and then started in on her scrofulous appearance. "How is it that you managed to spend three months aboard a fine military vessel, and still come home looking as though someone hauled you into the laundry recycling unit along with your clothes?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's so nice to see you too! Where is my father?"

"He is in conference with Shakiri."

"I didn't realize that Minbari culture allowed such marriages."

"In Valen's name! He is your father!" He blustered, face turning scarlet at the insinuation. "Has no one on that ship been able to teach you even an iota of respect?"

She stared directly at him, plopped into a chair, deliberately perched her feet on his desk, and leaned back. "Nope! I'm incorrigible. Are you going to beat the tar out of me and confine me to quarters?…Narsa?"

He fumed silently, and shoved her feet off the desk in a rough swipe. "No. Because that is precisely what you are asking for! You would enjoy it too much! I will leave you to baste in your own fantasies."

"Someone thinks a little too much of himself."

He clenched his fists and his teeth, and said between them. "Return to your post or go ruin someone else's day. They will be in conference for a long time and I do not have the resources to entertain children."

"How long? I can wait. I have a significant matter to…discuss with him!" She growled, thinking about his row with Entilzah Sinclair, concerning her assignment. There would be no more tolerance for interfering with her Anla Shok duties, even if it meant open defiance.

He grimaced, not entirely from the thought of her lingering. "Far too long to warrant your presence here when you surely have other duties."

Her vigilant eyes caught his fleeting look of unease. "What are they on about?"

"What they discuss is neither of our concerns."

"But you are concerned, whether you should be or not."

He tossed down the paper he was trying to distract her with, in a mute gesture of surrender. He was obviously not going to get any work done today. "Your powers of observation are astounding, Anla Shok."

Havah didn't respond to the sarcasm, just stared at him, waiting, which was far more unnerving.

But he resisted, looking back at her nonchalantly. He didn't know which side of her made him more wary, her Human side, or the side of her related to her father, a man now in conference with the object of his reserve.

She ventured. "I made some friends aboard the Yanazha—No…wait…I know you're shocked, but I did. And they said that Shai Alyt Shakiri is seeking to gain supremacy for the warrior caste, being the most experienced caste in terms of security, and that he believes that wars should be fought for practical gain, not abstract concepts. Is that what they are discussing?"

"I have no idea." He gazed levelly.

"Well, ok then." She rose, realizing the attempt futile and started out the door.

"Where are you going?" Suddenly, the idea of her leaving made him more uneasy than her direct inquiry. She was Anla Shok, she would try poking around Shakiri another way, one which could be much more disastrous.

"What, you couldn't wait to see the door hitting my backside, and now you need my itinerary?"

"I was just entertaining the nasty notion that you were going to do something foolish. I can't imagine why I would harbor that impression."

She chuffed angrily. "I'm not going to do anything to get my father in trouble alright? Or the Star Riders! I've gotten this far, haven't I? What is it going to take for you people to stop tailing me, waiting for me to screw up? Do you think I didn't figure out that I was being watched on the Yanazha? How dumb do you think I am?" She pushed the button and the door whooshed open.

He lowered his head wearily, and moved quickly in front of her, shutting it with a quick stab, and dropping his voice. "You are right. I, we, underestimated you." He sighed and continued carefully. "Look. A while ago, I asked you if things were bad with your government back home, and you said 'yes'. Since then, I have been following the events unfolding on your world. They have now passed a critical point, yes? Civil war is upon you, and still, the forces that drove you to it are working, the man called Clarke?"

"Yes." Her breath caught, shifting from anger to astonishment.

"Well, Minbar faces a similar crossroads now, similar, but not the same. We have not yet…'crossed the Rubicon', as your general Caesar said, and your current President Clarke is a clumsy obvious fool next to Shai Alyt Shakiri, with far less power than he realizes. Shakiri, on the other hand, is well aware of what power he commands and what his limits are. Do not cross him!"

"If he's so dangerous, and if he poses such a threat to Minbari unity, why is my father collaborating with him?"

Felshenn ran his hand over his crest in a frustrated gesture she had never seen him use, and paced back toward his desk, and sat down, motioning for her to do the same. "We are speaking frankly…"

She sat and nodded.

"Because Alyt Neroon possesses a similar…trait to your friend Delenn, his nemesis. As arrogant, presumptuous, and self-righteous as she is, they both maintain an unshakeable faith in the goodness of their castes. And for both, this translates into unquestioning faith in the honor of their superiors."

"They're both idealistic."

He nodded. "Neroon less so than Delenn perhaps. His warrior training has taught him to be vigilant, and he is…a difficult man to please, expecting often to be disappointed, but he continues to expect from others what he expects from himself. That makes him an honorable man, but it also means that he is slower to see the possibility of betrayal when there may be cause. A part of him acknowledges the possibility, and then refuses it. The betrayal of the Grey Council during the war cut him deeply, and yet, he merely narrowed the focus of his loyalty to our caste, still unable to accept that some of that betrayal came from the warriors on the Council, members of our own caste. Shakiri knows the depth of his devotion, and uses it."

"If he's being used, why isn't anyone trying to stop it? If you are so loyal, why aren't you trying to get Neroon away from him?"

He said, acidly, "It's not that simple. You know your father, and he is not a fool. I have said as much as I can without committing sedition. He is aware of our opinions, and remains where he is…There is another thing you must understand. Whatever Neroon believes about Shakiri now, he is the most dangerous person Shakiri will face, if Neroon should change his mind."

"He's the only one who can keep Shakiri in line."

"That expression works as well as any. He is the best chance our people have of averting a slide into anarchy more deleterious than any we have seen in millennia. It was what the Grey Council was meant to prevent. And now they are gone."

She shook her head. "That sucks." She said in English.

He smiled sadly, still speaking in Dark Minbari. "It is strange. Sometimes your most primitive Human tongue is more apropos than any words I can find in my own language."

"Is Neroon the only one with the power to do anything?"

"Not the only one, but the balances of cause and effect must be weighed, and he is the one in the best position. You come from a different world. You talk, act and think like someone who has never had to govern what you say or with whom you associate. It shapes you and makes it difficult for you to fathom the strictures or rules of a world in which things are not as you know them. It makes you freer, but it simplifies you because you have only a frame of reference for politics that accents the individual and the individual power to act and be heard. You have always had the luxury of shock when someone tries to take away your right to speak as you will, and your world-view collapses when someone succeeds in abolishing that right. But we have learned to work and influence without it. The Anla Shok taught you caution, but not enough. This is not the world in which you were raised…and it seems that your home-world is no longer the world to which you are accustomed either, and you have not adjusted your way of operating to accept that yet."

She sighed heavily. "No…you're right. It's what got me in trouble a few months ago. I'm just as idealistic as my father, I think. I'm aware on some level of the danger, the way things have changed, and harbor a certain amount of cynicism concerning the system and the government as it is, but a part of me refuses to believe it and keeps treating it as though it's just another piece of fiction on a movie-vid from someone else's story, someone else's life. This kind of collapse of the Constitution and civil structure can only happen to other nations, not to ours, that's what the voice in the front of my head tells me every time I look at another piece of evidence, every time I hear another bit of misinformation from ISN, reporting what Clark wants them to say. I want to believe them. Every time I hear them, I think, 'Well, maybe they really are right, and there's nothing funny going on.'"

"And what do your other voices tell you?"

"To be afraid, to be careful, at least. That it _is_ happening to us, and it seems like the whole galaxy is going to hell."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know what will happen. I guess we'll find out pretty soon how tight he can pull the noose. Aside from seceding, we'll try to avoid violent confrontation for as long as possible, but we can't let him take over like this. We have to get our Senate back. What about you?"

"We cannot barrel into rebellion, with wild Earther abandon every time we do not agree with our leaders' decisions." He smiled wryly. "But we too, cannot let this go on. I suppose we must wait, to see what will happen."

She sighed again, ruefully. "I hate waiting."

"Yes, I had noticed that." He sifted through the mountain of reports, letting her sit and wait for the conference to end, while he returned to work. After a half an hour, she lost patience. There was only a couple of days leave and she wasn't going to spend them watching Felshenn desk-surf, so she headed for the door. He tossed down a sheaf in exasperation, and rose, creaking, to follow her. His eyes were blurring from the scrutiny of reading, and he caught up with her, stretching his legs and rubbing his eyes.

She looked sideways at him. "What do you want? I thought you didn't have time to 'entertain children'?"

"I am taking a short respite. Besides, I was reminded that there is something that you should see, now that you have time away from the ship, and you are here. Your father does not currently have time to show you." He strode to a flyer, beckoning her and folding himself into the car.

They left the city and went a long ways into the countryside. In a small hamlet, surrounded by a forest of mammoth trees, with broad amaranthine spear-shaped leaves carpeting the forest floor, he stopped the craft. The air was piney and cool, with the shade of the canopy far, far above, and opened out to a broad hidden circle of houses, shops, and roads. A wide practice field lay to one side. They entered a large house near the edge of town. It was fashioned of white hard lattice-like wood, and black stone, presumably from the enormous trees and local rock, and set partly into the rolling terrain. Light poured in the crystal windows, dappling the hall. "This is where your ancestors, at least some of them, have lived for the past three thousand years. Your grandmother, Alyt Neroon's mother, resided here until last year. He lived here as a child as well, until he was sent to the academy."

Havah looked around awestruck. "Why doesn't she live here anymore?"

"She died of illness. She had been ailing for the past five years. It was thought that she would survive. She was strong. But she worsened suddenly, and in one night, she slipped away. She had served on the Council of Caste Elders, but her health prevented her from recovering fully in the city, so she returned here. Neroon attended her frequently, but he has not been back since attending to her cremation and final affairs."

Dust motes twinkled in the bright air. The ancient house breathed the vapors of age and long lives nestled into its bones. "What about my grandfather?"

"He left on a ship venturing into a little-traveled area of our space, forty-six years ago. Between jump-points, an anomaly in hyperspace caused one of the beacons to give miscalculations near their last known position. They have not returned. It is likely that they were led off-course and were not able to locate another jump point."

"Wow!" She paced down a hall leading to a room with a large tilted bed, big enough for two adult Minbari. It had been undisturbed for a year or more. Another room was empty except for an altar with a burnt candle and a broad crystal window looking out on a garden, split by a trickling spring, a meditation room. The stone floor in front of the altar was worn by repetitive impression. She went and knelt in the depressions shaped like knees and closed her eyes. The coolness of the room moved around her, with a draft she couldn't isolate. She opened her eyes to a reflection in the bay window, piercing dark eyes and a square but female jaw, not her own. As she stared and focused her eyes, the phantasm shifted and her own image faced her in astonishment.

Felshenn rounded the corner, leaned on the lintel and caught her expression before it too, faded.

She turned to gaze at him.

He didn't look surprised. "She used to meditate there, when she was home, more after Londal, your grandfather, was gone. It was her favorite spot. Neroon began to wonder if she was turning religious towards the end. I suppose she had reason."

"Did anyone else meditate here?"

"Everyone."

She rose and wandered past, out into the yard, following some instinct for motion. A path climbed an incline to face the base of one of the giant trees. She followed around the base to the side. It was so wide that both of her arms didn't even reach one-fourth's distance around it. The tree was pocked with meshes of holes, like a woven tapestry of branches and veins, collectively making up a single trunk. She squeezed her hand into the darkness of a larger hole, a little higher on the trunk than she expected, waiting for some Panic creature to snap her fingers off in sharp little teeth. But the tips touched something hard, not wood. She peered into the black, shining a crystal beam to catch the form. It was smooth to the touch, and cool. The reflection shone back a cobalt blue, like deep ocean water, ensnared by coils of fibrous trunk that had snaked up around it, forming a cellulose prison.

The tear-drop shone deep-blue in Turanni's small palm as her other fingers stroked its curve. It was the most beautiful and interesting thing she'd ever seen. Her father closed her fingers over it. "Close your eyes, Graceful Bone. And listen, feel it. It is one of Dol 'An's tears, from the Beginning. Can you feel her?"

The obsidian drop remained cool even in the warmth of her hand, like the tears the goddess-entity had shed, slaking the hot thirst of a planet being born, empty of life. In the tear-drops were the seeds of life, the solution to Her loneliness. It felt alive in Turanni's hand, vibrant and soothing…magical.

She looked up at Father in wonder, and licked it. "What is it made of?" She asked irreverently, wanting to know if Dol'An's tears were salty like Minbari tears.

He laughed a throaty baritone and beamed at her impudence. "It is volcanic glass, my little curious one. There is no ethereal abstraction for you, I see. Perhaps I should be sending you to one of the science guilds instead of the Academy…but your mother would come back across the veil and choke me as I slept, I think. Besides…the Academy will need more minds like yours. That I know." He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, kissing the side of her neck again, savoring the fading traces of her baby-scent. Next year, everything would change. She would go to military school, and the little girl wouldn't be little anymore. The unrest between the clan fleets and between the Academies was escalating. It was only a matter of time. He put her down.

And she looked up, sensing a darkening of mood. "Father?"

_He smiled, mournfully, and cupped her hand holding the stone. "In another year or two, you will leave me. Take it with you. Every time you miss home, you just put it in your hand and Dol'An will send you my love. You see the blue? The blue is the ocean. We came from the ocean, and the water does things for us. It can hold our thoughts, our dreams, our souls, just little pieces of us, so we can see far away." _

_Her limpid eyes were wide, and her fingers tight around the droplet. "I can feel it." She put the little stone in the tiny curve of her ear. "I can hear the sea!"_

He laughed again, like the sonic rumble of a loktar.

Havah withdrew her fingers, and padded back down the path to where Felshenn sat patiently, whittling a little branch.

"She was here too, wasn't she?"

"Who?"

"…Turanni."

"Of course. She was…indirectly an ancestor of yours." He looked shrewdly at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I found something, that I think might be hers."

He straightened, tossing away the whittling. "Show me."

She led him to the bole and shined the light on the obsidian.

He unsheathed a small knife and moved to saw into the tendrils of trunk trapping the artifact, but Havah put her hand on his, arresting him. "No…Please. Leave it be. She put it there for a reason."

He re-sheathed his penknife and stared at her. "How do you even know it belonged to her? What is it? You can barely see it."

"I can't explain. It's just a piece of volcanic glass…Her father gave it to her, and when he died a few months later, she buried it. It was a piece of him, and she gave it to the tree because it would be around for a long time…"

He sat back on his haunches, regarding her. "You speak as though you were there…You are not making this up, are you."

She shook her head. Felshenn scrutinized her, but said nothing further. "Very well, we will leave it be…In answer to your question: She did reside here, although she lived with the family of her cousins elsewhere after the demise of her father. And then, as a young adult, she resided mostly in the quarters provided by the military."

Havah nodded, and passed Felshenn into the house. His eyes burned into the back of her neck the whole way.

Neroon's omnipresent dour expression deepened as he took in her appearance and said under his breath. "I would have expected that three months on a battlecruiser under Alyt Rennir would have taught you proper hygiene and grooming habits!"

She didn't reply to what was clearly meant only for her ears, and stared ahead, eyes downcast, spine erect, as he surveyed her posture sourly. They had come upon Neroon and Shakiri exiting the office suites, as they entered. She stiffened, infuriated with his behavior after he had had the audacity to bully the Entilzah into changing her duties. But, the impending discussion would have to wait…again. She could see Shakiri out of the corner of her eye, taking in the entire tableau, and there was no possibility of broaching the topic of the Anla Shok in front of that snake.

While he was in Neroon's peripheral vision, his face remained calm and haughty as was his privilege as a superior officer, but when Neroon's back turned to him, Havah saw a change transform Shakiri's face as surely as if a fairy glamour had fallen away to reveal the true goblin underneath. His eyes were rapacious and searing with a hatred for her or her Humanity, or chillingly, in an even briefer flash, for the executive officer in front of him. She couldn't tell. He quickly regained composure, and the shift was gone as quickly as it had revealed itself. But not quickly enough. Felshenn, like the dutiful soldier he was, had averted his eyes initially, and stood at attention, but a furtive glance at him told her what he had seen as well.

Neroon continued, oblivious. "I received a report from Alyt Rennir. It appears that you were at the center of an incident. He provided me with the details as he knew them. Your behavior…reflected your training…adequately. I hope however, that such incidents will be avoided in the future. You have been at the center of attention long enough."

"Yes, Na!"

"Good." He strode out, apparently too uncomfortable to say anything further, with his commanding officer standing there.

What had she expected anyway, a hug and hello, 'I'm so glad to see you haven't died yet', 'Let's have a root beer together, Beav'? _Golly Dad, that would be swell!_ Nevertheless, she watched their receding backs, feeling somehow empty.

"He is not a demonstrative man. But he is pleased by the report." Felshenn said, from behind her shoulder.

"If you say so." She swiveled around and looked up briefly, quashing a lump that rose in her throat. "I have to get back. It was nice to see you. Later." She saluted hastily and then hurried away.

The hum of the ship was almost comforting as Havah stared out a port hole into hyperspace. It was disorienting for some, but the chameleon aurora of hyperspace waves couldn't compare with the brumous clouds that chased one another across her face.

"Your shore leave did not go well?" Polenni asked cautiously.

"It went ok." Havah's blatant lie hung in the air, but clearly she did not want further scrutiny.

So, as a properly courteous friend might, Polenni patted her on the shoulder and ceased prying, wondering what could have gone so wrong. _Ah well, after a few hal'chis, she might want to talk._

But after a few hal'chis, Havah realized that she had to come to a decision about the Anla Shok and their leadership.

Polenni just stared incredulously at the news. "Where did he go? Clearly he believes that he is not returning, if he has offered you the command. Where is he going, and why now, if the threat of these Shadows is upon us? Perhaps it is a mission to fight them, one dangerous or hopeless enough to assume his sacrifice, but then…why would he not send someone else, someone not in charge of an entire army? It makes no sense strategically…and…while I harbor no love for him…he does not seem like a deserter."

Havah shook her head. "He isn't. He is going to fight the Shadows, and couldn't take any of us with him, but he could not give me the details."

"Why did you not follow him? Normally, I would not advocate for questioning one's superior officer, but it is also your duty to protect him. Why did you not inquire further?"

"I can't explain. I think it had something to do with time."

"What do you mean…time. There was no time to question?"

"No. I mean…I think that he was going somewhere that I _couldn't _follow him, somewhere out of synch with the rest of the galaxy…maybe some_when_ instead of somewhere."

"That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard." But Polenni remained pensive. "So you have been offered the leadership of one of the legendary fighting forces of our race, and you are not sure if you want to take it?…The question of whether or not you are qualified to take it notwithstanding, it is being offered! Are you a complete bodo!"

Havah ignored the ubiquitous dig about her capabilities in favor of the peculiar term Polenni had chosen. "A what?"

"A bodo!…One of your Earth idiots…they dress up and entertain people with their foolery…a bodo!"

Havah burst into laughter. "A bozo, a clown!"

"Yes, yes!" She waved irritably. "You are evading the question."

"It's not a question of not wanting it. I just think, at the moment, that I am not qualified to take it, as you said."

Polenni sat back regarding her. "I agree that there are far more experienced soldiers than you who deserve the encomium far more, and may provide the Anla Shok with more efficient leadership…However…it was to you Sinclair offered it. You have worked closely with him for some time. While many of us disapproved of his appointment, he has not dishonored the Anla Shok yet, and…" She hesitated to admit "he has made progress with their re-instatement as a fighting force…when many of our clans refused to respond under his leadership. He has demonstrated worthiness in at least this capacity. And if he has chosen you, then he has faith in you. Why would you spurn his decision? He would know better than anyone, currently. I am sad to say…that he knows the Anla Shok better than my own caste does right now, since many of us are on _active_ duty." She made clear her feelings about the stature of the Anla Shok when compared, at least, to the regular military, but her point was good, and her back-handed compliment, still a compliment.

"Well, that's just it. Your caste doesn't know them anymore. Both the Humans and the Minbari among them, most of them anyway, are uncomfortable with someone who holds a position in your regular military. The politics are just too bad right now. And since I have neither the extensive experience, nor represent someone whom they can be comfortable with…"

"So whom will he hand the command to then?" Kol interjected. "It is after all, a warrior caste establishment, founded by a warrior. Even if most of the members are not now members of the military, at least Sinclair was a soldier! I certainly hope that the religious caste doesn't mistakenly see this as an opportunity for more power, and whine forth one of their priests for the position."

"I don't know. It's his decision. I don't really know what else he had in mind. But Sinclair isn't one to be influenced by whining, so I wouldn't worry about that."

"I still think that you are being a nin…a nincom…" She made an indecipherable sound of frustration, "…you know what I intend! A fool to refuse the faith of your superior officer. He would not ask such things of you lightly. It is your duty to serve as he believes fit." She had clearly been researching English, and while most of her diction was flawless, there were some slippery words she just couldn't fathom. She flushed in ill-temper.

"A nincompoop?"

"What is the origin of such ridiculous phrases? Do Humans simply cobble together the most erratic and bizarre-sounding syllables your vocal chords can emit?"

"If you hate the language so much, why are you bothering to expend the energy to learn it, if it causes you so much aggravation?"

"Because she is succumbing to patrol madness." Kol smiled slowly.

Polenni sighed in exasperation. "Shut up, Kol! Because…because while it is primitive and unruly…it describes many things…Many words sound like what they are…it is a strangely descriptive language."

Havah grinned. "I'll show you a thesaurus sometime, if you think that's confusing."

"A thesaurus? I do not understand, is that not one of your extinct reptiles, with the giant sharp teeth?"

Havah hid another giggle behind her hand. "No, that's a tyrannosaurus."

"Hphhh!" Polenni chuffed with irritation, and threw her hands up.

"Patience, patience! I didn't learn your languages in a few days either."

"Yes, but our languages are extremely complex!" She struggled to cover a slowly spreading smile.

Of course, none of the banter, the humor, or Polenni's opinion helped make Havah's decision any easier. Still, she had asked for it. And maybe Polenni was right? Who was she to contradict the Entilzah? Maybe she was just being overly-sensitive, considering the present sentiments of the warrior and religious castes, letting herself get too caught up in their drama. And where _had_ he gone? Had the dreams been more fevered phantoms, frenzied into being by her troubled slumber, or weird cells of quantum reality twisted and tortuously clinging to her subconscious as she wandered through time? He had been Valen. Of that she was certain. And somehow, he still was, and was possibly becoming Valen again. The whole subject was giving her a migraine.

She sat, still pondering the question, prodding at the obscure mass of unease in her mind, like a child poking a jellyfish with a stick to uncover some secret of the stygian abyss, some long buried neurosis. Maybe she liked her personal corner of chaos…if she followed orders, then she could always attribute her situation to wind-tossed fate. But that wasn't true either, was it? The truth shone in her mind like cords of spider's silk, the inescapable web of choices, like a trawling marlin's net. No matter what, it touched her somewhere. As she envisioned it, a deep chill swept through her bones, rippling bumps along her arms and the back of her neck and shimmying down her spine. Something was happening. Ebbing spirals of probability curled around her like slowly smoldering leaves, and faded, leaving little holes in her sense of now, as though she were looking at reality through invisible cheesecloth. Someone had 'walked over her grave'. The breath of the past fogged her vision as a Humanoid Minbari from a thousand years too late arrived in the nick of time to prevent a very different present than the one they all now occupied. The railroad tracks of their dimensional reality clicked into place, and the click settled into Havah's gut. In the distant past, a young female Minbari soldier shivered at her post on board the Ingata, wondering if the nearness of the enemy Shadows had caused her sudden thrill, or something more powerful.

No, fate was real, she decided. There was something implacable about the wave that had just washed over her. There was a war coming, a terrible one, and her people needed guidance, a guidance she had failed to give once before in the dim past. What right did she have to try again when danger was most imminent? She sent her message to Sinclair off into the ether, her final decision to remain a first officer to whoever replaced him, if he or she would have her when she returned from the Yanazha.

An unexplained shudder wracked Felshenn's tall frame. If he had been Human, he would have burst into a sweat, but as it was, a strong feeling of destiny flooded his mind, distracting him, once again from the reports he was obviously not fated to finish. It was as though a hole had opened in the universe, and someone had slipped through the tunnel, pushing all time out of place for a moment. It was this backwash that he felt, this displacement. A strong image of a face haunted him, a Minbari male with a scar on his cheek, surrounded by holy beings. And he thought of Havah, though the association was disjointed. His hackles rose as he remembered the light in her eye as she described the igneous stone she had found, believing it came from her remote ancestor. _Have religious delusions driven us all mad? She is mad, and now I am insane as well! I should not have brought her to that house. There are strange things there. It turns everyone who lingers into priests or soothsayers!_ He fingered the knot of hair he kept, and swallowed in uncertainty.

18


	27. Chapter 27

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 27—Evasive Maneuvers

Polenni was on an inspired mission. She was attacking the learning of English with the same punctilio with which she approached everything she did. She had even taken to carrying a small dictionary in the pocket of her overcoat, and was systematically reading through it when she was sure none of her fellow officers, except Kol, were watching. Despite the admiration Havah felt for her endeavor, Havah, in the spirit of pure meanness, slipped her a copy of Lewis Carroll's poem 'The Jabberwocky' as they were sitting finishing their meals, and watched her read it with perplexity, growing more and more agitated as she flipped through her dictionary, trying to locate words that weren't there. By the end of the poem, her noodle was so thoroughly baked, it was charred and radioactive.

"In Valen's Name!" She slammed the dictionary down on the table, rattling the trays.

Havah flinched and stifled a guffaw.

Polenni raged. "None of these words are in the book! Except 'Jabberwocky', and it only referred to the fact that it was a fictitious creature from this very poem! Fictitious! And the rest of the words simply aren't there! I have looked through three dictionaries before determining which one was the most sufficient, and I don't recall seeing any of these words in any of them! Is this truly English at all, or is your language even more degenerate than I thought?"

By this point, Havah was unceremoniously snorting laughter through her nose, unsuccessfully muffling it with her hand.

"What?" Polenni spat peevishly.

"…Ehehe. Sorry. It's just, you remember when you said that some words describe images? Well, that's sort of what these are. It's a children's poem. They're not English words in the sense you are thinking. They're make-believe words. We 'cobbled together the most bizarre syllables our vocal cords could emit'."

"So they're NOT real words! Your artists are teaching children words that don't exist! No wonder your culture is so unstructured! How have you survived this long?"

"Oh, lighten up! It's supposed to be whimsical, that's the whole point! Come on, sing along, 'Twas brillig in the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe…', you're not singing!"

"You're insane! There is no such word as 'brillig' or 'slithy' or 'toves'!"

"There is now!"

"There is NOT! This artist just made it up! You can't just make up words to suit your whimsy!"

"Why not?"

"Because! Because it is just not done! That is not how a language is supposed to behave. A language has a structure and roots from which the words come, and those roots are based on something real!"

"But it does have a structure, even in 'The Jabberwocky', nonsensical or not. It follows the grammatical rules."

"Which makes it even more deceptive and utterly frustrating. How can a word follow grammatical rules when it does not exist? There is no root and no form to the words! Gibberish!"

Havah just continued to chant. "But at least we're consistent. 'All mimsy were the borogoves'…you're still not singing!"

"Stop that immediately, you're embarrassing me!"

"…'And the mome raths'—"

Polenni threw the book at her. It landed against her chest with a hearty whumph.

"…'outgrabe'…"

Polenni just shot Havah a look of pure venom, and finally Havah shut up and just sat chortling.

"If you think that's wild, you should read the whole book that the poem came from, _Through the Looking Glass_. It was a children's book, but there have always been rumors that when Carroll wrote it, he was…chemically enhanced, and that that was the source of the imagery."

Polenni snorted disdainfully. "Fabulous."

"Ah, it'll grow on you."

"If it does, I will find you and wring your insane fantasy-mongering Human neck!"

This only sent Havah into another gale of giggles and snorts.

Sinclair never received Havah's message, Rathenn did. And just as Kol feared would happen, Rathenn determined that Delenn, one of the foremost leaders of the religious caste, exile of the Grey Council, would be ideal for the position. Unbeknownst to her new warrior friends, Havah fully supported his proposal. It wasn't up to them. She owed it to Sinclair to support whoever seemed the most qualified. Delenn inspired the religious and worker caste Anla Shok, and the Humans liked her too. She had command experience, having been Grey Council during the last major war, and for military expertise, she could still rely on Havah, and also had the ear of John Sheridan, who, while not formally a Ranger, was partly in charge anyway and, barring the Anla Shok masters, had more command and battlefield experience than almost any of the Anla Shok. The warrior caste despised him, but as Polenni had said, they weren't the majority of the Anla Shok. The warrior caste had chosen to pull away, and now had to face the consequence that their opinions on the matter were overruled. Besides, if Sheridan wasn't Entilzah, then his involvement might fly under the radar.

Rathenn responded to her message with his usual enthusiasm, and arranged to ask Delenn, and set up the formal induction ceremony on Babylon 5. Havah regretted that she would not be able to attend, having returned to the Yanazha. She selected Birin to take her place in presenting the formal uniform of office. Bir and Delenn were of the same feyn, so it seemed fitting. Havah didn't spare the decision another thought, only moped over the fact that she was too far away to attend the ceremony. _Things should run fairly smoothly, with Lennier organizing it on the Babylon 5 end, _she thought consolingly.

_How dare they!_ Neroon thought, incensed. _As soon as Sinclair was gone, they pounced on the post like ravenous chulas in heat! It was bad enough when they pushed that Human into the position, and now they have not even waited until his trail of passing was cold before snatching his job, fancying themselves military officers instead of succumbing to the order and rigor of our regiments! The mismanagement, the dishonor! Did they even try to find him before concluding that he would not return? Did they even mourn him? I was never fond of the man, but he was a worthy soldier and did not deserve to be forgotten so quickly and expediently in their rush for unbridled power and rank! No, this will not do! The religious caste has stepped beyond their bounds and must be reminded of their place!_ He stalked into Shakiri's office, to await his orders, his caliginous expression sending a pall over the corners of the spacious room.

"Neroon, chal'asht! Good, I see that you have heard!" Shakiri ambled to the center of the room from the window he had been peering out of moodily.

He addressed Neroon with the term 'sword brother', in the tense of a superior rank to a junior. But though Neroon should have felt flattered to be addressed with such a familiar term by his general, Shakiri's use only rankled in a way that he couldn't explain, and didn't have the time or temperament to explore now. He bowed, deeply respectful in acknowledgement, and continued, ignoring the twitch in his spirit center. "Yes, Shai Alyt, I have heard!" He waited to be asked for his opinion on the whole debacle.

"I fear this is one more symptom of the dissolution of the Grey Council by that priestess-turned-traitor, the dissolution of our societal structure. This collapse of proper order cannot be allowed to devolve any further. What do you think, Neroon?" He watched his executive officer carefully. Neroon was one of the most frighteningly intelligent officers he had known. His tactics were solid and insightful, and there had never been a time when he had regretted hearing the man's view of any situation, stodgy though his personality tended to be. However, this would be a crossroads for him. His abomination of a daughter was first officer of the Anla Shok, and it must be known whether this would affect his performance and usefulness to Shakiri's plans.

"I could not agree more, Na!"

"Good. We see things similarly once more. What do you suggest as a course of rectification?"

"Delenn must be convinced of the error of her decision to accept the post as Entilzah. It should then be turned over to the warrior caste, to you, to select a more appropriate leader."

"And if she refuses to relinquish it?"

"She will not. I will make certain of it. I believe that there is still a vestige of reason within her addled hybrid mind."

Shakiri laughed cachinnatously, although his laughter feigned warmth. And then, his voice dropped menacingly. "We must be certain. She cannot lead the Rangers. Your orders are to stop her, Neroon, by any means necessary. Is that clear?"

The twinge in Neroon's center made itself felt again, like the writhing of little worms. "Yes, Shai Alyt! It will be done."

"And what of your…child?" Shakiri's eyes locked on him. "What if she interferes?"

The twinge turned into a sinking roar. "She will not. She is aboard the Yanazha, she will not even know of our countermove until Delenn announces her change of heart. And this matter, whether she is first officer of the Anla Shok or not, is far beyond her authority. I will explain that to her thoroughly if she does not already understand. It may not be an issue. She has spent a few months within the military proper, she understands our ways far better than she did."

"Ah Neroon, my friend!" He clapped his hand patronizingly on his junior officer's shoulder. "So newly a father! I hope that our people fulfill the faith that you so generously place in them. I think you will find that Delenn, at least, will disappoint you. But,…who am I to discourage such optimism. We will need it in the coming days. I only caution you to beware of betrayal. It would not go well for us to underestimate the greed of certain political opponents now….No, you are right on one count at least. Our people need to be guided back to important values. There has been too much focus on spirit and unearthly matters, while our people at home, firmly on the planets' surfaces here and abroad, have more material needs: security, land, resources. Duty requires us to be those guides now. Military skill can provide for all of those needs until new government leaders can come to the fore."

Neroon only stood, regarding Shakiri with his peripheral vision. What was he playing at? "Is there anything else you require, Shai Alyt?"

"No, Neroon, thank you. That will be all." He dismissed Neroon with a slight nod and a winning smile.

Neroon bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and made arrangements to leave for Babylon 5.

Birin showed up three weeks later, requesting to dock at the Yanazha. She found Havah off-duty in the rec rom. Birin stood impassive to the stares of the rest of the soldiers. As soon as Havah spotted her, she rose and went over, following her to somewhere they could talk quietly. Something had gone awry.

"What happened?"

"It was the ceremony. It…did not go exactly as planned. Alyt Neroon was there. He objected vehemently to the choice of Delenn as Entilzah."

"And…?"

"And we were able to finish the ceremony. Delenn is now Entilzah, she sent this message with me." She handed Havah a crystal.

Havah took the crystal. "Bir, there's something you're not telling me. What do you mean he vehemently objected, what does that mean?"

She opened her mouth then closed it, unsure how to proceed, and then started slowly, in a voice meant to calm an irate lunatic. "Well, Marcus had an encounter with him, and it was somewhat heated…but they are both alright. Marcus has been sent to Minbar to recuperate and reflect.—"

"To recuperate? So this was a physical encounter, what the hell has been going on there?"

"Marcus challenged him to denn sha."

"He what! Is he insane? Of all the testosterone-soaked—"

"Havah!" Bir was trying to mask an amused smile, poorly. "They are both well. Everything was resolved. I haven't told you this to start a family feud. I just thought that you should know here, now, before you could find out from someone else, before there was time to—"

"To calm down and not jump down my father's throat?"

"That is correct. As you know, that method of dissention did not prove very effective for Marcus."

Havah narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, sheepishly. "Are you sassing me, Anlashok?"

Birin grinned. "Um…yes…Anlashok Na."

"No respect." She shook her head. "No, you're right. Thanks for breaking it to me. So…how have you been? I'll look at Delenn's crystal, but if you have a few minutes, I haven't seen you for a while."

Birin sat down and smiled, launching into a long diatribe about her opinion of everything that had gone on in the galaxy since Havah's internment on the Yanazha, particularly, after looking around carefully, Shakiri's hold on the warrior caste, and the current state of Minbari society. Later, as Bir got up to leave, she turned back around. "Why did you not take the command? Was it your duty here?"

"Here? No. This is mandatory service, and Neroon's right, I needed the experience, but no, my heart is with the Anla Shok."

"Then why?"

"Because I thought Delenn was more fit to inspire the Anla Shok…and I know some people were not comfortable with the new association between me and Neroon. That was borne out fairly accurately, I see."

She cocked her head and regarded Havah with a mixture of sadness and irony. "Delenn is certainly an inspiration, and it is true that some were wary of Neroon. But you are not him. We know you too well to believe that he can control you…and you are inspirational in your own way. You are…one of us. We would have followed you too. You should know that. I am sorry if you made that sacrifice because of such a lack of faith. It was a mature action to take, but perhaps unnecessary. And I cannot help but wonder how much of your acknowledgement of isolated Rangers' doubts is a reflection of your own." She shook her head and waved her hands. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make you question or regret your decision, but I thought you should know that we trust you, and your presence is missed. I wondered if this was your fear when you refused the command."

Havah nodded. "Well, too late now, and I'll be back soon." Relief mixed with regret washed the back of her throat as she recovered with a smile. "I guess I was…doing penance too. For something…I can't explain."

"For something that happened lifetimes away?" Birin pinned it.

Havah nodded.

Bir shook her head. "I understand the motivation to fix things on another turn around the galaxy, but beware of assuming that the conditions are the same now as they appeared then. Different conditions may require different actions. I'm sorry, I shouldn't speak so brashly, and I do not mean to lecture, it's just…we miss you. I miss you."

"I missed you too. How is Trell?"

"We have set a date for the final ceremony! And unless there is all-out war, you had better come!"

Havah shrieked and started fanning her face like a debutante with the vapors, and then grabbed Birin in a hug. "Count on it!"

As soon as Birin left, before her neutrino trail was even faded, Havah contacted Neroon's office. Felshenn's face appeared on the screen.

He began drily. "He's in—"

"In conference with Shakiri, I don't give a rat's ass!" She couldn't mention any details, but she could dress him down for almost killing a Human, a friend, for any reason at all. "He knows, and I suspect that you know damn well why I'm calling!"

"He…we do. And he will not see you now. His statement to me was this, 'I have no need to justify my actions to a mere ranat. She is to finish her tour without further complaint.' I trust that is clear enough."

"Clear? What's clear is that you are protecting his barbaric and racist behavior again! He—"

The screen was blank. _That troglodyte hung up on me!_ Enraged, she punched in the coordinates savagely. His face appeared for a second, before he rolled his eyes and the screen grayed out again.

"PIKE-STROKING DUNG-MONKEY!" She tried another channel but there was no response, and she sat fuming, restraining herself from planting her fist through the screen, or picking the unit up and dashing it against the wall. _I am the first officer of the Anla Shok, whether they like it or not, and one of my men was assaulted because of that egotistical old relic, and goddamit they are not going to get away with this!_ But they were getting away with it. And they would get away with it, she knew, because there was nothing that she could do. She had to stay and complete her tour or shame the Star Riders. That could be a leverage point, but it would not be fair to the other members of her clan, a few of whom she now knew. And the matter had been seen to already by the new Entilzah. To pursue it now could be construed as insubordinate, although she knew Delenn would not view it that way. Check Mate. She grabbed a boot and hurled it at the bulkhead, and then emptied her locker and threw the uniforms around until the black garments were draped precariously over every possible surface, and then she kicked the base of the bunk as hard as she could. It was harder than her foot, and she hopped up and down and rolled on the floor amidst the ruin of her locker contents, trying to relieve the bludgeoning pain in the bones of her foot. Finally, she lay, still enraged, staring at the ceiling, with her arms and legs spread-eagled over her clothes. _Fantastic strategy, genius! That'll show 'em. I'm not through with them yet. I'll get that smug little prick!_ She picked herself up and dusted off her clothes and popped the crystal in the port to review the recent reports, and Delenn's message on Marcus's status.

She did not try to contact her father or Felshenn again in the following weeks. The fight between Neroon and Marcus would obviously have to be broached in person. And the looming threat of the Shadow fleet that the five warriors had all witnessed, receded in memory, as no word came from Narsa Diri in response to the recording. But it remained a flood of dark silhouettes in each others' eyes, and lurked behind their thoughts and words, unspoken.

A month after the sighting, a lone Ranger ship docked with the Yanazha again. The Anla Shok found the Anlashok Na in her quarters, retired after her shift. A singularly queer sight assaulted the young Minbari, as the officer answered her door in a warm military tunic, pants dotted with violently orange fruit he had come to know as 'pumpkins', all with leering yellow grins, a long yellow knitted cap plastered with more of the same bizarre fruit in the same obnoxious orange and a long tassle dangling down the back, and…furry slippers in the shape of some horrid nocturnal Earth animal that hissed and shrieked every time she shifted her weight. He just stared, mouth agape, words gone, when confronted with the absurdity. She motioned him in and shut the door behind him, slippers caterwauling.

She kicked them into the corner, since it was obviously distracting him from his mission. "Halloween." She explained. "A couple of friends sent them."

He just nodded dumbly. The Anlashok Na was known for being slightly…eccentric. Her ranat's overcoat was hung neatly by her locker, and he wondered idly what her fellow ship-mates thought of her holiday attire.

"Report. What do you have?"

His attention snapped back to the crystal he carried. He handed it to her and stood silently while she reviewed its contents.

They had all known this was coming. Open attacks by the Shadows had been going on for some time at random points throughout League space, and there had been a surge of refugees into Sector 83, which had remained ummolested for a while. As with the aftermath of any violent attack, there had been a significant rise in health events due to injury, the disruption of the food and water supply, disruption of water reclamation and waste recycling, overflow of mortuary processing, and overburdening of the medical infrastructure. But something new and ugly raised its head.

The reports from the various syndromic surveillance systems scattered throughout the non-aligned worlds were bearing unpleasant fruit. The signal-to-noise ratios had all jumped. The pharmaceutical surveillance revealed that over-the-counter medication sales for rash illness, respiratory, diarrheal, and fever/flu-like illness had all skyrocketed on at least five worlds, _far in excess of the expected rate for the recorded disasters_, bordering Centauri space and several other areas, in a seemingly random pattern according to the cluster analysis, over the past three weeks. Cusum analysis raised alarms in over a hundred emergency care clinics and hospitals from the Brakiri sectors to the Drazi, across several species and for several syndromes: rash illness, respiratory, diarrheal and neurological. There appeared to be either a cross-species and sector pandemic, or several outbreaks of varied natures, all beginning with flu-like illness, and the agent or agents were so far unknown. It was not even known if this was a natural phenomenon or an intentional release, although viewing these data, Havah had her opinion. It had begun three weeks ago, slowly and undetected at first. And there had been no fatalities as of yet from these syndromes, but the sick rooms and treatment centers were jammed far past their surge capacity on a number of worlds, even those which had not suffered a direct Shadow attack. The worried well were an even larger concern. The media of different worlds were responding variously, some quelling the events to quell the fear, others sowing it. They needed help. Havah didn't have a clue what the agent or agents might be, but she had no doubt as to their origin. But this was different than on Markab. A chilling voice at the back of her head whispered _'Fear. Distrust. Distraction.' While they care for the sick citizens, they will not focus on anything else around them. While they are afraid, they will suspect each other._

She turned to the waiting Ranger. "Sit. This may take a while." She pulled up lists of Anla Shok, a resource inventory, and began selecting officers, and compiling new task force assignments. "These Anla Shok all have infection control or case investigation experience. I want them assisting the local governments and clinics with epidemiologic investigations until diagnoses are confirmed. These Anla Shok," she pulled up another series of resumes, "all have health care experience. I want them assisting with dispensing the push packages of supplies we will send with them, and helping to reassure the worried well…Make sure they're all vaccinated against everything possible, and that their vaccination immunities all took. Give 'em MOP gear, just in case, and send them to the following worlds…These Anla Shok go to the most recently hit worlds of a direct attack." She pulled up another set, "…Help 'em take care of their dead. The last thing they need is a pandemic due to lack of sanitation. Are these the reports from the Refugee Assistance Task Force?"

He nodded.

She viewed the reports. They were all being funneled into Sector 83. "I don't know if this is wise."

"It is the only sector that has not been affected so far."

"Yeah, so maybe it's due soon. I just don't like the idea of putting all of the eggs in one basket…But, if that's where the refugees want to go, I guess we'll just help them get there. And I really don't have any better ideas." She shook her head. "Thank you."

She downloaded all the information to a new crystal and handed it to the Ranger. "Deliver their assignments to them, and have them coordinate as soon as they reach their destinations, radio silence until then. Tell them to remember that the locals are in charge. We are coming from an outside agency. This is the locals' game until Delenn says otherwise." Havah returned to the screen and resumed dictation, and then handed another crystal off. "After you have dispensed the assignments, deliver this Incident Action Plan, and Situation Report to Delenn. Understood?"

"Yes, Na!"

"Good. Be careful. The ante just went up."

After he'd left, Havah shucked her night clothes, donned her Anla Shok uniform, and went to see Narsa Diri. He needed to know of the change in surveillance status, even without details, because it was likely that her tour would soon be interrupted. As soon as he saw her salute in the doorway, he wordlessly led her, instead of into his own office, right through to where Alyt Rennir waited, staring out a porthole.

The alyt turned to face her, his green eyes lancing into her. She saluted and bowed, and he inclined his head. "Yes, Anla Shok?" His expression was bitter.

"I just received some disturbing news from the non-aligned worlds. In addition to the recent attacks, they have begun experiencing some…health events…I may be called away soon. I thought you should know."

He nodded curtly. "If…when…your active service is required, notify me, and you will have my permission to take leave." He never mentioned the Shadows, but the source of his bitterness was now apparent. He knew. He had seen Polenni's recording, and knew what it meant, that they were now facing an ancient enemy. Yet his ship was still here, with no further orders. All orders now came from Shakiri, and the Yanazha would not be joining the Anla Shok any time soon. His piercing eyes dismissed her with a nod, and he returned to brooding.

News the following week was not encouraging. No one had been able to diagnose the outbreaks, any of them. And the following week, the word came. The newly formed alliance of worlds, with Babylon 5 at its epicenter, was moving against the Shadows. The next expected target of the Shadows was Sector 83, the spot to which all of the refugees were now fleeing. She sent word to Alyt Rennir, and prepared to leave.

Polenni looked up, puzzled, when Havah appeared in Engineering on her shift. Then it dawned on her. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

Havah nodded. "I wanted to say goodbye. You've been a really good friend. I'll see you when I get back…" She said brightly, trying to feign an optimism she wasn't sure she felt.

"Of course! We're not going anywhere, that's for certain…We'll be right here, where you left us!" She said gloomily, revealing the same bitterness Havah had felt from Rennir. She paused. "I will look for you…when you return." She saluted Havah, and then broke into a faint smile. As Havah was leaving, she said quietly. "Havah Lassee. It has been nice to learn about Humanity from you. Your race is not as…barbaric as I once thought. Go well, stay well. Win, and return to us."

Havah nodded, and went to find Kilshinn.

_No matter what, we can't escape the waiting_, she thought sardonically, as her White Star battalion hung in hyperspace, anticipating and dreading a signal from a lone scout ship, heralding a massive attack by the Shadow fleet on Sector 83. Religious caste or not, she had to hand it to her crew. Though she could see they were frightened, they were stoically going about their tasks with aplomb, revealing little, except to glance back at her occasionally, for confirmation. The two delicate-faced religious caste gunners were dwarfed by the equipment, in which they were embedded. And Havah couldn't chase away the impression that if she could break them over her knee, how were they going to survive the Shadows? But she knew their gracility hid deceptive strength, and that religious or not, they had certainly had martial training.

Delenn's voice tuned in, and an image of the fleet came up. "The signal is in from Marcus and Ivanova!"

"Signal received and understood. Na sh'an Wing moving in and flanking the Dogato." She nodded to the navigator, and the White Star Alecto, and three others glided to the sides of the huge cruiser carrying Sheridan and Delenn. "Wing Da sh'an, fall in ahead of the Drazi fleet, Ina sh'an behind the Narns…" The Narns didn't like anyone in front of them. She assigned the rest of the White Star wings to their places, and the fleet moved ahead, hyperspace streaming around them, seeming to vibrate with their collective tension.

_We're the cavalry_, she thought, as she reviewed Sheridan's tactics. _We're light and fast, but with much heavier fire-power than any light-class fighter. That's why the Minbari wanted Humans, why they allied with us. We're good at bobbing and weaving and ducking, and…guerrilla warfare, like Cuchulain, picking off the troops of the Men of Ireland, at the Ford of the Forked Pole, flank by flank, man by man._ _If we have no other talents, we have chaos…just like the Shadows. Fight fire with fire. The White Stars were made for it. _She envisioned posting the bloody disembodied heads of the Shadows on orbiting buoys around Sector 83, but somehow, the vision didn't end with the Shadows being struck by fear and going home like they were supposed to in the myth. Instead she just imagined the heads coming to life and spewing poison all over the atmospheres of the worlds they were warned away from.

As the fleet streamed out of hyperspace between the Shadows and the targeted systems, the Shadow ship about to finish off Marcus and Ivanova's crippled White Star wheeled towards the new threat. They all did. They looked exactly, to the last detail as Havah remembered them from her nightmares. Another Shadow passed over her grave, and time convulsed around Havah. A young Alyt stood at the helm, watching with determination as the Devourers clustered around the Minbari fleet. A line was drawn and the Shadows would get no closer to homeworld. Havah blinked hard, but that superimposed world did not go away. Turanni/Havah gripped the arms of the chair with resolution.

A wall of Shadow fighters and escorts advanced, broadcasting the only psi-shield available to non-telepaths, white noise. On every alliance ship, the telepaths moaned and concentrated on breaking through. Sheridan's orders came clear for the fighters to take out the Shadow fighters and escorts by any possible means, to allow the telepaths a chance. As the sides engaged, more Shadows appeared to the right flank of the Drazi battle group. Two Sharlins retreated from the front and fell back to engage the flank. But two more large Shadow vessels angled in to take out the Sharlins.

"All wings, break and attack! Spiral formations, use your angles! They're faster on a single vector, but we're faster at changing! Use it!" Havah barked, as the White Stars scattered and began harrying the giant arachnoid ships, in twos and threes, spiraling around them like stinging flies.

"Ki Sh'an, left port four-o'clock!" She yelled as a Shadow vessel blasted into a giant Brakiri whale. Trel's wing turned and blazed in, split in twos, and followed the vessel with twin bursts of continuous fire from underneath and to the left port side until the vessel's arms crumpled, throwing off black organic debris.

"Hu danta, 54.27.43, ah hel!" _Short burst, coordinates 54, 27, 43, continuous fire!_ She said to the crew as the Alecto screamed in downwards towards a vessel engaging a Vreen saucer.

The Vreen escaped, as the Shadow turned firing towards the Alecto. "Evasive maneuvers!"

The ship pitched and rolled out and over, coming around to the diagonal rear of the vessel, overshot and then swung up under the vessel before it had a chance to turn. They pinned it between their forward guns and the Vreen's peppering shots from above. A shriek echoed in the minds of the shipboard telepaths of the Alecto and the Vreen Hokanan, as the core of the Shadow vessel withered.

And they moved on to another vessel and engagement, yawing away from a passel of little Shadow fighters. _Guess we didn't get all of 'em._ She wheeled the Alecto around and fired into them, supported by the Hokanan, blasting at them from above again. "Boudicca and Varenni, with me!" Two White Stars pulled away as they finished off another vessel and joined the Alecto, towards another black mammoth as it sliced through a SunHawk. _Crap, they're on the carrier group again!_ She watched in horror as a thousand Drazi, and a third of the fleet's refueling supplies exploded in an actinic flash.

A smaller Narn vessel floated by, life signs still active, but they had lost power to their engines and weapons. A red beam lanced through their hull, and the pieces floated away, still moving eternally until they each hit another piece of matter a hundred million light years away.

Dodging Narn flotsam, the grim White Star wing moved in and pinned the vessel with three points of fire. It wheeled and fled, trying to shake the insects, but its gravity generator, which gave the ship its propulsion, only pulled the angry White Stars into a slipstream wave, and they clung, burning into its hull. But as the ship was dissolving, another Shadow mammoth sensed its passing, and before they noticed, the Boudicca was hit, and broken. The engines reached critical mass and exploded, before any aboard could signal. Birin.

_Oh Jesus, Oh my God, _was all Havah had time for, until her eyes blazed and she screamed in vengeance. "YOU'RE MINE!" Contrary to the Alecto's prior tactic, she ordered the boat right down the Shadow's snout. The White Star pitched, weaved and rolled around the defending shots, sideswiping, ducking under, firing into the weapon's ports, and then right into and through the crumpling vessel. They had all known Birin.

Havah wiped blood from her eyes from the gash on her forehead, and a navigator limped out from under a fallen beam. "Damage report!"

"Structural damage to the forward hull, shields holding at 70 percent, engines…working."

The Shadows retreated, melting back into hyperspace, and the remains of the fleet just sat, stunned for a moment, silent of all chatter as the jetsam from a hundred broken alliance ships drifted eerily past, spinning into space. Slowly, people took account of who was still alive, and who required assistance. Havah was alone again, in her own head. She silently gave thanks to her ancestral doppleganger, and numbly contacted the remaining White Stars, noting with relief which she couldn't feel now, that many were still intact, and headed back to Babylon 5 with the fleet, helping to tow crippled ships.

Trel already knew by the time they docked. She could see it in his face as she approached him. He was struggling for composure. She put her arms around him. "Trel, I'm so sorry." She lost the ability for words, and he had none, and so they stood, locked and choking, until it dawned on them that the crews of the ships needed tending. Havah pulled away, wiping her eyes.

Trel spoke, voice tremulous. "I know you, friend. You will blame yourself. Don't. As I told you on Minbar, we all chose this. She died with honor."

Havah covered her mouth and then nodded, squeezed his arm and went to the infirmary to see some of the injured crew. She watched as one of the little gunners from the Ki sh'an wing was carried by, under a foil blanket. She was set down, and given IV fluids to await triage. Havah went to her and took her hand. The girl was shaking uncontrollably with the pain of the blistering burns covering the left side of her face. A medical assistant came and gave her pain medication and shooed Havah away, so he could treat the wounds. She looked up at Havah briefly, a glimmer of horror and triumph leaking through, before her gaze dulled with the medication and she lapsed into sleep. Havah hung around for a while, watching people brought in. Some she knew, others she didn't. Others were unrecognizable. She wondered briefly if she should go seek out Delenn and ask her and Sheridan what their next move might be, but she didn't have the energy to move from where she was rooted. If they wanted her, she was sure they'd find her. _Did we do anything more than kick 'em in the shins?_ She thought morosely. Someone stirred behind her and she turned around. Felshenn stood in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" She had no energy for banter.

"A pleasure to see you too." He answered dryly. "I came to check on your status."

"You…what? Oh…"

"The battle was a savage one. We have been passing debris for light years, not from the enemy, and I came to see whether you had survived."

She just stared.

"You are well then?"

She looked at the bodies surrounding her and glanced back at him, looked away and shook her head.

"But you are not injured, barring the cut on your face?"

"No."

He moved farther into the room. "You have seen battle before." He said gently. "It is not easy."

"So…No shit!" She said savagely.

He stood awkwardly a moment longer and then concluded. "Well, I will report to your father that you are well and in your usual surly temperament." He got halfway through the door, but Havah turned around again. "We'll you can tell him that I got that from his side of the family!…It's a week's trip here from Minbar. The news would have gotten to him one way or another…You telling me that you flew a week here to see if I was alive?"

He said nothing for a moment, only looked at her with an unreadable expression. "No, as you said, Minbar is a week away. We have returned to the Ingata. We were…patrolling, and came when we heard."

"Oh…Well…Thanks."

He nodded and returned to his ship. She continued to stare at the spot where he had been until her eyes fogged, and she sagged against the wall.

Nothing remained now except recovery, and waiting to see what happened next. They had known where the Shadows were going to be this time, but now, all bets were off. _I can't go back to the Yanazha now, not while anything could happen!_ Trel had gone into seclusion to mourn, and she left him alone. Garibaldi was still up, watching Looney Tunes, trying to distract himself from the fact that none of them could sleep. That was more her style, and she settled down with a handful of popcorn. But it had no taste, and she couldn't bring herself to laugh, even at Marvin the Martian. Because she kept hearing some comment that Bir would have made if she had been here. The only thing that reached through the pall was another warm body nearby, and the memory of Felshenn awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, grousing at her moodiness, and then shambling off again. _He came to see if I was alive._

16


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28—The Siege

Trel had come out of seclusion and was accepting people in his quarters, paying respects and talking about what to expect next from the front. Unlike Humans, Minbari refused to eat during mourning, and so no one brought food or ate in Trel's presence. Havah certainly abided as well, but wished not for the first time that the Minbari could have been a little more Human in that way. What could be a better time to eat then in mourning, drowning your sorrows in knishes and chicken soup? But the Minbari were different. They chose a way that allowed for no distraction from grief. That way, they could focus and then be done with it. Unfortunately, there were necessary distractions to be addressed now, the next move in the war.

_What now? _Havah thought. _Now we wait for them to strike back. And they will, but how? We think like the Shadows, we think chaotically. What would we do if we were them? A frontal assault? No. They've almost never used a direct attack._ She poked at a candle, trying to ignore the hunger pains.

They didn't have to wait long, but the attack didn't come in any form that any modern soldier would have expected, unless they had been reading the Old Testament.

Delenn's face nearly twitched with agitation. Havah had never seen her this upset. Not only had her and Sheridan had some sort of a spat, but she was convinced that she had driven him to his death. She paced her quarters, wringing her hands, robes fluttering.

Havah never thought her duties as a Ranger would include couples counseling, and she was fairly certain, with her record, that she was the wrong person to consult. "You had an argument, couples have arguments. That doesn't mean that he's going to go kill himself…with all due respect."

"You do not understand. He will go to Z'Hadum! His wife arrived…"

"What do you mean his wife arrived? You mean his six-years-dead wife? What is this, Night of the Living Dead? Are the Shadows throwing zombies at us now?"

"That is why he is so angry. He feels that we, Kosh and I, were not honest with him, that we kept her from him. And now, he will return to Z'Hadum with her."

_How Semitic_. Havah thought acidly, _like Delilah sneaking into the tent of Samson and chopping off his locks in the middle of the night. _She thought, oddly. _I wonder if the ancient Hebrews and Hittites were influenced by the Shadows. We've known those tactics for seven thousand years._

"Not unless he's insane, he won't. He has to know this is a trap. Besides, do you think Garibaldi will let him go? No way! He doesn't trust anything out of the ordinary, and this is positively Lovecraftian."

"Yes, but, he grieved deeply for her. Even if he is certain that it is a trap, he will go…for her."

"I think you're underestimating him. Yeah, Human males are definitely known for losing their heads when it comes to Human women, but there's too much at stake here, the war and…you. I don't think that he would just up and make a decision to throw everything he has been building with you out the window. She has been gone for six years, and he's not a teenager. If he does go…maybe there's another reason, a strategic reason that we're not seeing."

"No one has ever gone to Z 'Hadum and survived."

"Mr. Morden did, and apparently so has she."

"But what have they become? What price have they paid in return?"

"That is the big question, isn't it? We don't know. What are the Shadows really like? We still don't know why they are attacking, or why they did a thousand years ago. Do you have that answer?"

"They are antagonistic to life…They seek the destruction of other races."

"That's not an answer. Why? It's too simple."

"I…do not know. I have asked that question of Kosh, and he merely answers that we do not understand. And the new Kosh says nothing at all. I am beginning to think that they are hiding something, perhaps John is right."

"Well, look. I don't think he's loony enough to go to Z'Hadum, but even if he is, I don't think it's your fault. He may have a perspective that we don't have. You say that no one ever survived, but he's one of the only people who ever survived an attack by the Black Star too. Not to bring up bad memories, but we didn't think that was possible either."

Delenn inclined her head, slightly relieved. "Yes, this is true. But we are not the Shadows. With all of our technology, we barely survived them the last time, what chance does one man have on their homeworld?"

"You gave me some yarn a long time ago about pebbles dropping into ponds and making ripples, do you remember that? I do. You said that it's not the size of the pebble, but when it falls into the water, or something goofy like that. Well, maybe you're right. You told me that one person can change things, if it's at the right time. Are you going back on that now? It's a question of chaos theory if nothing else. Maybe one little thing he does will change the probabilities, the ripples, if you like that analogy, and for every little change in his time, the shape of the future changes. If you look at it that way, no matter what he does, he will make a difference. I can't tell you he will survive it, but he always said that there is no such thing as an undefeatable enemy, and so far he's been right."

Delenn smiled wearily. It had been a hard several months for her. She had taken this whole war on her shoulders for her entire people, and it was showing. Havah thought with chagrin of Polenni and the others, itching to join the front, and bitterly obeying their duties and remaining on patrol. "Thank you, Havah. I hope that you are right…Perhaps if we had been more open with him…but we were afraid that he would not be ready. Such knowledge too soon…"

_You did the same thing with your own generals. Has the procrastination helped? Sometimes you have to throw reality at people, and just trust that they won't crash and burn. You can't shelter them forever. _ Havah thought ruefully. "Don't go down that road, Delenn. It's the What If road. I've been down it a million times and it doesn't lead anywhere useful, only into depression and paralysis. You did what you thought was right. It's all anybody ever does, whatever seems like a good idea at the time. We're not Vorlons. We haven't cornered the market on time travel or whatever they do when they're not being cryptic. And I suspect that they don't have as many answers as they'd like to think either."

"I know." Delenn said sadly, thinking of Dukhat's death and the frenzy of the ensuing days.

But despite what either of them said or worked out between them, the What Ifs were crawling in through the cracks in their minds, cavorting across their thoughts in the deep hours before dawn as they glanced out of the portholes towards the Rim.

He was gone. The maniac had left for Z'Hadum with his creepy wife, under circumstances that could have been written by Poe. Garibaldi went grim-faced about the station refusing to talk about it, and Delenn had gone into seclusion, praying for his return. _This would be the perfect time for the Shadows to strike_, Havah thought nervously. _Murphy demands it._

And as if on cue, they did. Black nightmare shapes glided in from beyond the stars and circled the station. Her White Star was still in repair, as were many of the big guns. Fighter squadrons flew out, baring their tiny little fangs, laughable in the shadow of the gargantuan cruisers. Havah watched the Shadows from the observation deck, with a crowd of fearful Humans and aliens. All of the fighters were out, and all she could do was let her eyes slide off the shimmering black bodies. _Yanazha, any time now. Any time you could change your mind and get your ass over here._ But they couldn't either. And what could one cruiser do against the four ships circling. It would make a dent maybe, take out one of them, and then explode in a blaze as the other three pulverized it. The Shadows weren't taking any chances. Four cruisers. They knew. They knew Sheridan was gone. But they weren't attacking. Why not? Why does an enemy show their presence without action? A siege. _He's still alive. He has to be._ She strode to her quarters, only to pace. _All the emergency management training in the world and we haven't got a fragging clue what to do now._ _Turanni, if you were ever going to poke into my life, with any bright ideas, now would be the time._ But there was no answer from her ancestor.

The meeting to address the siege was subdued.

"What's the status on supplies?" Ivanova asked, irritably.

"For the entire station, we have enough to last for…a week. If we ration, two weeks. The waste and air reclamation are self-contained…unless something breaks, so we're ok on that for now." Zack Allen piped up. Garibaldi was in a fighter. "But the natives are getting restless. I don't think cutting down the food available is going to help the mood any. We've posted extra security already, just in case people start getting crazy."

James Hauth confirmed. "I'm putting out an update station-wide, and letting people know where to get different supplies if they need it, and I'm posting a 24-hour crisis number for counseling, and a few counselors from the STD section to see people in person on a triage basis. Carmen's got the whole thing staffed and ready."

"And, I've checked the med supplies. We're good for two weeks before we have to delve into the emergency cache. The cache contains all supplies, needles, cots, gloves, antibacterials, in addition to drugs." Franklin added.

"Anything from the Anla Shok?" She asked Havah.

Havah shook her head. Delenn was still in seclusion, and the only Anla Shok on the station were unable to get more information, since no one was coming or going, and radio silence was being maintained for outside transmissions. She felt utterly useless.

Zack's hand bleeped. "Zack here."

"Sir, they're gone. The Shadows are gone. They just left."

"They just left? What happened?"

"I don't know, sir. One minute they were hovering, and another minute they vanished."

Ivanova tapped her comm. "C&C, I'm on my way." She strode out. They stared at each other another second and then scattered, Zack to get more details, Franklin to his lab, Hauth to see to his update, and Havah to find Lennier.

And now Garibaldi was gone too. He had never returned from the fighter squadron, and no one had any information on what could have happened. While the relief at the departure of the Shadows was palpable, so was the sense of darkness swirling around the known absence of Sheridan, and now, the security chief as well. Delenn's hope was as inexhaustible as her perpetual questions. _The woman is as insane as her partner_, Havah thought enviably.

"Are you nuts?" She exclaimed, ignoring Lennier's scandalized look at her language towards her superior. "You can't go to Z'Hadum looking for him! You were just telling me a couple of days ago how suicidal it was for _him_ to go, now you want to follow him? No way, man! I'm your executive officer, and one of my duties is to prevent your death! You're not going! I'm not losing another Entilzah!"

"Havah!-" Delenn smiled graciously at Havah's insistence, as she would at a recalcitrant child.

"NO!…What? No! Are you listening to yourself? That's nuts!"

"Havah!…I am not going alone. Ivanova and Lyta Alexander, the telepath are coming with me. You have met her, yes? She is extremely strong. We know that they fear telepaths."

"All the more reason for them to wipe you out as soon as you come out of hyperspace! I'm going too, then, if I can't talk you out of it without assaulting a senior officer!"

"No. I need you here." She continued despite Havah's bugging eyes and frustrated gaze. "With so many of the senior staff gone and myself, it is necessary for someone to remain behind for the rest of the Anla Shok. If he is indeed gone," her certainty wavered, "then we will need a contingency plan."

"Yes, I know, I'm already on it. You're changing the subject! I… Why are you making it impossible for me to do my job? That's what you're doing, you realize that, don't you?"

Delenn laughed as Havah's lame attempt at a guilt trip fell flat on deaf ears. "Havah, you are doing a wonderful job, but you cannot go with us. You are most needed here. Your ship will be repaired soon, and what if the Shadows return here, while we are away?"

Havah snarled, squirming under the impending logic of Delenn's explanation. She put her hands on her hips, tapped her foot irritably and let out a sigh worthy of a dying Shakespearean hero. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

Delenn fondly put her hands on either side of Havah's face and steered her towards the door. " No, dear friend, you are not. You have much planning to do."

Havah stood forsaken in the doorway, sighed again and then bowed. "Yes, Entilzah Delenn." She said tiredly.

_Plan B, it's good to have a Plan B, _she thought hopelessly as she flew to the Ingata. If there was even a possibility that the next battle might depend on an idea of hers, then she needed the input of someone with a tad more experience. Neroon. She couldn't rely on Turanni's mercurial intrusions. As she docked, she reviewed her strategy. They couldn't wait for the Shadows to surround Babylon 5 again, they had to go to the source, and hit them on their own ground. There had been indications that not only had they just suffered a loss during the battle for Sector 83, but a Ranger had returned from an outpost with the news that there had been an explosion or some sort of catastrophe in one of their major metropolises. _I don't recall seeing any cities, in the dream…You wouldn't if they are all underground, dummy!_ _They're vulnerable_. _We have to hit them, with or without the senior officers, with or without Sheridan, and maybe Delenn._ But they were the only ones who could garner support from the League of Non-aligned Worlds. So she would have to plan on the White Star fleet and the Minbari religious caste cruisers alone. _There are 130 Sharlins, and 1500 White Star ships, since the second battalion is complete. They're small, fast, and powerful, but it still takes a couple of them, usually, for every one capital Shadow ship, and the Shadows have thousands._ _These creatures gave us our myths, the answer to vanquishing them may also be in myth._

She had spent hours locked up in her room in research. She started with ancient and medieval warlords and battles, Alexander the Great, creator of the organized phalanx, the Battle of Crecy in 1346, and the Battle of Grunwald. Edward III defeated the French with light infantry and the use of archers against Phillip's heavy cavalry and guns. The Polish and Lithuanians dug holes in the battlefield for the German knights' horses to fall into. _We need to rely on trickery, we're so outmatched_, she thought. _So were the Apache, and they won, one battle at least. They appeared like U.S. Cavalry. But the Shadows undoubtedly use technology that can sense an enemy signature. _

And then there were myths_…Myth is supposed to have a grain of truth, isn't it? At the end of Cuchulain's life when he took refuge in the Deaf Valley, the Sisters of Calatin lured him out by sounding like cries for help. He could not refuse. They drew him away from his refuge. Sheridan lured the Black Star into a nuclear attack by setting off a distress signal. The use of glamour, deception. The Shadows are experts at it, but we have the greatest deceivers of all, telepaths. We've been using them only to jam the processing in the capitol ships, but they can be used for so much more. The power of illusion._ She strode towards Neroon's quarters, fully aware that he was likely to disapprove of her methods.

He stood silent as she stepped nervously inside. "Why have you come, daughter? Why do you not return to the Yanazha?"

Argument would have to wait. "Because we are at war. My place is with the Anla Shok for now."

"Ah, of course. Since Delenn has gone running off in search of her cursed Star Killer, isn't that right? And you continue to support her."

Havah ground her teeth. "Father, I'm not here to get into a fight with you about our political stances. For once I'm here asking for your help, for your expertise."

"Now, you want my help, how fascinating."

"Look, I'm not asking you to help us fight! I was just hoping you'd take a look at my plans. You're one of the Minbari's greatest war heroes, I just thought that you might be able to tell me if I'm doing something galactically stupid. That's one thing you always seem more than ready to do anyway! Ah…forget it. I shouldn't have come." She turned to go.

He had a flash of an old dream, of her, surrounded by writhing Shadows, engulfed, and finally devoured. He had seen the recording Rennir had shown him, of massive Shadow fleets. The monsters had indeed returned. It grated on him that Delenn had been right about that at least. How many other things was she right about? But Shakiri believed that if the various worlds had simply stayed out of the Shadows' way, their worlds would not be in this mess now. Meddling aliens! "And what are your plans?" He took a step towards her, and she came back into the room, and shut the door.

"We mean to attack Z'Hadum, while they are weak."

A low rumbling began in Neroon's chest as caustic laughter erupted, echoing off the walls. He rubbed his forehead hopelessly, and there was only laughter for the next several minutes. "I should think that even you would not require my guidance to point out what a ridiculously foolish plan that is."

Havah didn't laugh, only continued. "They fear telepaths. We are going to mine the area around their defense systems, so that when they try to leave, they will encounter the mines. Our forces will be set up in battle groups just beyond range of the mines, organized into spearheads, to give the White Stars good shooting positions, backed up by Delenn's Sharlins. We've gotten the support of the Star Fury squadron leaders to attack the smaller fighters as they come out, to keep them from harrying our long range guns. Once they pass that barrier, and we know they will, the White Star fleets will break into squadrons of four. The telepaths will be broadcasting images of a much larger fleet, thousands of ships, forcing the Shadows to fire at ghosts. It will only work for a few seconds, until the first shots are fired, and their sensors recognize where the real ships are, but it may be enough to disorient them. The White Stars will break and flee and lure the large ships towards an area near the sun. It will mask the signatures of another nine battle groups of White Stars and Sharlins waiting in hyperspace. The telepaths aboard those ships will be further masking the life-signs. The White Stars will also be armed with buffer tanks full of liquid iridium, which they can release into space. We believe that the Shadow ships use gravity generators to propel their ships, just as the White Stars do. The iridium may be drawn to the Shadow ships' singularity drives if they are close enough, throwing off their ability to navigate, at least for a short period."

Neroon listened in horror, as her plan unfolded. It was interesting, yes, but childish, and possessed of tactics worthy of the dishonorable Star Killer. It was also suicidal. _And they are facing a far more terrible enemy than the Minbari._ The Shadows fought with these very tactics that she was now proposing, minus the telepaths perhaps. Perhaps. How were these rag-tag Humans and rebellious Minbari going to best the masters of deception at their own game? It was preposterous! "You are relying heavily on the success of these illusions. And what if they have their own telepaths? You claim that they fear telepaths, but the Human fear of telepaths never stopped the Humans from employing them."

Havah sighed. "I don't know. That is all I can think of. There are too few of us for a direct conflict."

He stared at her, at the mortality written in the worry lines of her forehead. She was scared. He let out a deep long breath, and pulled a sheaf of paper to him. "Alright. Here." He began drawing troop positions. "The Sharlins are not as maneuverable as Delenn's …puny White Stars, correct? And you used them as strafing fighters, spiraling around the Shadows in the last battle. It was…a good strategy. It worked. Why are you changing it?"

She sat erect. "I…I don't know. I didn't change it completely."

"Perhaps not, but you are no longer using their full potential. You have effectively…'placed all of your eggs in one basket', by arranging them like this. You must leave a couple of these battle groups as reserve units. Suppose that the plan does not work as you believe it should, then you will reveal the location of nearly all of your ships, both heavy and light batteries. See here." He gazed at her, his face had grown more taciturn than she had ever seen it, and sad. "You are forgetting that you must destroy their ability to make more ships, focusing only on the ones that might be attacking you now, or the ones that you can see. The Shadows…have tremendous resources. More than you realize. They have the ability to destroy entire planets, and if you go storming down the barrel towards their home-world, they will. They will target the Minbari and all other races, not in the tame battles that have been so decimating your fleets until now, but for extinction. Do you understand now what you face?" He asked quietly.

Havah stared.

"I have heard it said that the warrior caste loves to win and hates to lose, and that we fight only battles in which we can triumph. That is not true. In this case, Delenn and the Anla Shok are not merely shaking a sleeping gokar. A thousand years ago we confronted the Shadows, and barely won, and that was with the aid of the Vorlons. What such aid are they giving now? Prophecies, orders. They speak only to the religious caste, giving them orders to attack these beings without any indication other than one single confrontation, that they will assist us when the Shadows come for Minbar, for our people. As a general, I cannot in good conscience require this of our soldiers, nor can I risk our entire people. If you engage them at Z'Hadum, this is exactly what you are doing, so you had better be prepared to destroy their ability to strike back, ever. Z'Hadum is their central base. You must destroy it, and you must succeed. Divide your forces in three. Take one large wing composed of nearly all of the Sharlins, escorted by White Stars, and come in on this attack vector in a hyperbolic curve around the sun, remaining in hyperspace until you are no more than three light minutes from their home-world. As you have ascertained, the sun will mask the signatures until you are almost upon them. You may use the telepaths to mask the life-signs, as you have said. When you come out of hyperspace on top of them, it will appear as a direct frontal assault. It is, but it is not the primary attack. These ships will almost certainly be sacrificed. You understand this? But it will force the Shadows to react. It will draw the bulk of their forces off of their homeworld, and engage them, so that the second wing can carry out the principal attack. You possess drilling nuclear weapons, yes? This second group, composed entirely of White Stars will come in on the same vector, in hyperspace, but when they come out, it will be at this point, around the back of the planet, while the main forces are fighting at the front. From this point, the second group will fan out in a sphere around Z'Hadum. They must destroy the planetary defense system, fire the missiles, and tunnel back into hyperspace as soon as they have discharged successfully. There should be a couple of White Stars acting as scouts during the melee. They can detect seismic activity and plate tectonics and provide this information to the second battalion. The tactical nuclear weapons can be aimed for major population centers, which will upset their infrastructure and capacity for industry, and for areas of seismic activity. It will give the weapons a better chance of reaching the planetary core. The third wing will wait in hyperspace, near the gravity well of the sun. They are the reserve fleet, if the battle on the front or if the second wing is having difficulty discharging their weapons. If all else fails…they will do their best to destroy the planetary defense systems and fly into the atmosphere. When they reach this depth, they will all open jump points. Z'hadum will collapse. Do you understand? If you are going to go after the Shadows now, it must be total annihilation, or there is no question that the worlds that you are trying to protect will be next. No mercy."

Havah paused, gazing at the hastily sketched diagram. It looked familiar. Hundreds of points, hundreds of ships surrounding a world, jumping in right on top of the enemy before they even realized the force was there…and then it would be too late. She had seen this before as she watched Star Furies exploding around her, hit by Minbari fleets that seemed to come out of nowhere…The Battle of the Line. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared as a wave of recognition washed through her face. She covered her mouth to hide the sudden wave of anguish and anger that chased it. But Neroon saw it. She looked up at him slowly and met his eyes. He just sat looking back, as an impenetrable gulf widened between them. Neither of them could think of any way of crossing it now. He would not apologize for what had been his duty, but a part of him watched her anguish with bitterness. _Will you stand where I once stood, daughter?_ What remained to them now?

Havah nodded slowly. She let out a shaky breath. "Father, thank you." She stood to leave, not wanting to burden him further.

As she turned, he suddenly stood and grabbed her arm. He looked at her intensely for a moment, "Daughter…" and then dropped the volume of his voice. "We have been ordered to remain out of this conflict, but if a Minbari ship is in distress, we must answer the call. There is now reason to believe that Minbari ships may be at risk at certain coordinates near the Rim. There is now reason to post patrols near this sector. Given this information, the diversion of a few patrol ships cannot be denied, and if any of the Minbari ships were to send a distress call…it would be answered."

Havah gazed at him. Her eyes flooded and she blinked and nodded that she understood. She slipped out of the door silently.

_I cannot allow this! I will recall her from the Anla Shok entirely. It is my right to do so, as head of our clan and Alyt of the warrior caste!_ He dialed the coordinates of the Babylon Station to leave his orders upon her return. She would have to return to the Yanazha. _And then what?_ His gloved finger hit the close button, cutting off the call. He sat heavily, feeling older than he had ever felt. _I…cannot stop her, _he realized. _I call her a child, and train her and treat her as though she is a child, but she is not. She is MY child, and she is Anla Shok…and a warrior, less like her Human mother than like me. She has chosen my path and I cannot stop her. I cannot protect her from this._

He just sat for the next hour, gazing at his denn bok, silently grieving.


	29. Chapter 29

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 29—Gods and Demons

The Shadows had returned to their homeworld, it seemed. Now it was the Alliance's turn to strike. Havah returned to the station to begin preparations, and await Delenn's arrival, if she was fated to return. Since everyone was no longer sitting on the razor's edge of siege, there was time now, to think about Birin. There had been the sense, while caught up in the furor of disaster planning, that she would walk in the door at any moment, apologizing for being late. But she never came, and she wasn't going to. Havah called Trel.

"Hey, I'm going to set up a service for the Anla Shok to attend, and anyone else who knew Birin. I know many of her family and Minbari friends have already done something. But…humans sometimes take a while. She died under my command, and I've been so angry…Anyway, I'll start tonight at my quarters, at planetary sunset. That's the beginning of the Jewish day, and I'm going to sit shiva. I know she wasn't Jewish, but that is how I know how to mourn, and I know she was fascinated by other cultures..."

He inclined his head gracefully. "I will be there, Havah. Thank you. We never questioned the time you took. We know that Humans are different. You notified her family in the proper time, and offered your assistance. That is what's important."

Havah nodded sadly, and began setting up her quarters for people, and ordering food. She contacted the Anla Shok aboard the station, and set up her comm link for conferencing, for the Anla Shok not aboard the station who wanted to be there.

People trickled or linked in, some bearing platters or bowls of various kinds of food, Human and Minbari. As the sun was hidden by Epsilon Three, Havah covered the mirrors, veiled her hair, and stood facing due east to recite the Mourner's Kaddesh. Trel pointed out the English and Minbari translations in the prayer pamphlets Havah provided. Everyone rose.

"Yitkadal v'yitkadash shmay raba. B'olma divrah kirutay, yamlich malchutay…"

"Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen…

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us  
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen."

She finished reciting and closed the book, turned to everyone, and explained. "I know that must sound strange, a prayer for mourning that has no reference to death. In a lot of ways though, it is very…Minbari in thought. The Jews believe in one being that governs the laws of the universe, and IS the universe. Well, when someone is born, we believe that their soul is a part of that universe, and it is manifest in that body for us to watch over for a while. When they die, we believe that they are just returning to the source, just like the Minbari belief in a world soul….So the prayer…isn't about dying…it's about going home. And while peace is not in our immediate future, we can still hope that it will be, someday soon." Tears dripped down her face, and Trel took her hand. Everyone remained silent, thinking, for a time. Havah wiped her face and motioned to the overcrowded tables of food and the platters covering every possible surface of the small room. "Well everybody, that food isn't going to jump onto your plates, eat! Please."

Trel had brought a tin of Birin's chol sha, her favorite confection. It was empty within ten minutes.

Delenn returned, with Commander Ivanova and the telepath. Her face told Havah what she needed to know. Sheridan was gone, and they were on their own. Still though, Delenn refused to give up, either her hope that Sheridan would miraculously resurrect from the abyss, or the possibility for victory against the Shadows that had taken him. She charged into planning and rallying the Non-aligned Worlds, like Isis raging against the powers of Set, conjuring every magic and religious caste prayer she knew to rescue her lost love from the realm of the dead. Havah could almost envision Delenn's half-crest the crown of a Nile goddess, as her eyes flashed in confrontation.

"They have pulled their ships from the station, after all John has done for them!" She exclaimed disdainfully. "They are afraid, and rather than take the advantage that he has won them, they would rather hide in shame!"

Havah shifted uncomfortably. "Well…he held them together, and now they think he's dead…I'm not defending them, but this isn't a surprise. The plans that I've given you were constructed with that in mind. They can be adjusted if some of the other ships return. Hope for the best and plan for the worst, you know…"

"Do you believe he is dead?"

A silence settled upon the room as oppressive as the smothering heat of Egypt under her blazing regard.

"I don't know how to answer that, Entilzah…is it possible for him to be alive? I guess. Strange things happen here, and that strangeness seems to follow people who are tied to this place wherever they go. Is it likely?…I don't think so. Vir Cotto said that there was a massive nuclear explosion, and that Sheridan fell into a pit that was miles long. And you didn't find him when you went there. The circumstantial evidence would seem to indicate against his survival."

She nodded wearily. "Whether he is alive or dead, we must strike them now, on their own territory. There will never be another chance. I will continue to attempt persuading the other ambassadors to recall their ships to the station, but we must be prepared to go to Z'Hadum soon, with or without them."

"I agree."

"Has Ivanova seen these plans?"

"I believe so. She consulted Sheridan some time ago. They are similar to hers."

"When can we be ready?"

"Another few days."

"We will wait that long for the other worlds to change their minds."

"Understood, Entilzah Delenn." Havah bowed and swiftly retreated to the hallway. 

A single finned ship, quite unlike the arachnid dreadnoughts, emerged unmolested from blasted Z'Hadum and headed into hyperspace. 

Negotiations were not going well. In fact, they had completely deteriorated. Not only were the ambassadors from the Non-aligned worlds failing to bring their ships back, but they were actively obstructing plans for anyone else to go to Z'Hadum, accusing the Minbari and human fleets of putting all other worlds at risk by continuing the hostilities. There were angry mutters all over the station, the kind that would stop as soon as Havah or anyone wearing a Ranger pin walked by. Finally, one of the prime instigators of the unrest called a meeting. Havah rushed into the Zocalo, amidst a crush of aliens and Humans, as the alien spoke from a balcony, inciting the crowds. Delenn could be made out in the center, guarded by Lennier. He barely kept her from being jostled as she retorted. As she responded, the mood only grew uglier. This crowd was at a boiling point. Security was strained without Mr. Garibaldi, and violence seeped into the tones of the protesters. No ship was to be allowed to conduct an assault on the Shadows, or the leader of those attacks would be removed. Aliens surrounded Delenn, and it was clear that Lennier was outnumbered and outmatched.

The crowd closed in around Delenn and Lennier, and Havah tried to slip through to them and was shoved back. Someone grabbed her. And then something happened that made Havah stop in mid-punch, as her eyes, everyone's eyes rested on the figure that walked out onto the balcony, staring down the startled ambassador like a burning apparition. It was Sheridan. Delenn had been right, a fact which she seemed hardly ready to believe herself as she made her way to meet him. Havah scoured his form, up and down, from where she stood in the throng. His uniform was battered, but aside from a few scrapes, he looked whole, and utterly furious. He turned to the crowd, determined. And that's when Havah saw it. There was something different about him. Sure his personality seemed intact. But he had changed. _No one returns from the depths unscathed,_ an old Earth journalist had once said_._ The difference in his eyes could not be quantified, or even qualified. There were scars where a piece of life had been ripped away, and something foreign put in its place. A part of him was no longer Human. As a hybrid, Havah could feel this as distinctly as she could see or hear or smell. So what was he? There was nothing of the Shadows there, but of something else, very very old, immeasurably old. Her eyes drifted to the doorway to the side of the balcony. A tall alien stood there, of a species she had never seen. It stood in shade, peering out placidly with luminous eyes. A circlet ringed its elongated forehead, giving it a vaguely humanoid look. But the resemblance to humanity ended there. As Sheridan spoke, Havah was fascinated less by his riveting enjoin to attack Z'Hadum, than by the strange alien, who seemed to support Sheridan and his speech with an intangible silent regard. It remained in shadow.

She goggled at Sheridan as she stood at the entrance to Delenn's quarters, waiting to talk to Delenn, wondering if this was a bad time to see her. Delenn would want more time for re-union with her partner than she was likely to get.

"Is everything alright Miss Lassee?" Sheridan asked, hard-faced.

"Y-Yes, sir. Everything's fine. I'm glad to see you alive."

"Thank you. So am I." He smiled amiably then, the fierce features softening. He turned to Delenn. "I'll see you later."

She nodded gracefully and smiled.

As he left down the hall, the tall alien joined him, walking past Havah. She stared at it, and it regarded her silently, with slightly luminescent eyes as it passed. Suddenly she knew what alien-ness she had felt from Sheridan. It was this one. A circle of calm surrounded it, a tranquility deeper than any she had ever felt. Whatever it was, this appearance was just that, an appearance for some entity that no body could hold. This ancient alien had none of the terror or awe of the Vorlons, only a settling sense of 'being'. It was, is, and would be. The appearance was for them, for others. Havah swallowed as Delenn joined her.

"Yes, that is Lorien. He arrived with John."

"What is it?" Havah turned to look at her.

"He is the First One." She said cryptically.

"The First One what?"

"THE First One. As you know, the Shadows and the Vorlons are two of the oldest races in the galaxy. They and a number of others were among the first sentient life forms in the galaxy. Marcus and Ivanova tried some time ago to contact the others, to assist us against the Shadows."

"I remember. They got somewhat of a lukewarm reception. It seems that both the Shadows' AND the Vorlons' relationships with their peers were less than positive."

"Yes, and when the others went beyond the Rim, these two remained behind to guide the other emerging races, as teachers. That was what we suspected, and now John's contact with the Shadows has confirmed this. The Shadows view themselves as 'Lords of Chaos', which they see as a necessary force in the universe. Our contact with the Vorlons has led us to believe that they view themselves as 'Lords of Order' and masters of discipline. I see now why they chose primarily the Minbari as contacts. We have been heavily shaped by their view, even when they were absent. John said that the Shadows favor evolutionary forces to weed out undesirable genetics or traits, as your Darwin would have said, natural selection. And the Vorlons favor…direct alteration and interference, as I would suspect with the enhancement of Lyta Alexander, and…Sebastian. I am not certain, but I believe that their guidance has been far more extensive than we have any evidence of."

"That doesn't completely track though. First of all, Darwin's theory of natural selection did not advocate any absolutes. He didn't believe that there were 'undesirable' traits at all. In fact, his theory espoused the idea that every trait, EVERY trait is relative to the current environment. And no environment is a constant. It changes, always. So what appears to be a detrimental trait for a species in one environment may become a positive trait when the environment shifts, and sooner or later, it always will. I won't bore you with the details. Second, if this is about ideology and policy, then neither of them have maintained their own. I read texts that Neroon provided…about the Skin Stealers, that indicated that the Shadows may have rescued a defeated race, from your own home-world. That's interference with evolution. And what about Morden, and John's wife? I think it's safe to say that they've been 'altered'. That's interference too. And the Vorlons…if they're so into obedience, why have they been sitting back and letting us fry? We've done everything they've demanded!"

"Because this is about perception. The Vorlons always said that reality is a three-edged sword. Well, it is for them as well."

"So this really is a Zoroastrian conflict, but it's self-created. It's about these two races' perceptions of the right way to run the galaxy, regardless of how inconsistent they become in the pursuit of those absolute points of view."

"I believe so, yes."

"And we're the chess pieces, we're their thesis, the data points backing up their respective arguments."

"Yes."

"Fabulous. So this isn't going to be about defeating the Shadows anymore. We have to fight both of them, and we can't destroy either of them because what we're really doing is rebelling against our teachers' plans for us. I thought I was done with adolescence."

Delenn smiled good-naturedly. "We must find a solution. Some way of existing between both of them."

_We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light._ Havah thought. _Maybe we already have the answer._ "What about…" She nodded towards the door, where Lorien had passed. "Is it here to help us?"

"John trusts him. I believe that he is the oldest of them."

"That doesn't mean they'll listen to…him."

"No. It does not."

The plans had changed. The battlefield had grown far more complicated. Now the Vorlons had become a problem. Rather than assist the alliance of aliens, they had made a unilateral decision to destroy any forces, people, or worlds influenced by the Shadows, including civilians. It had become, in a more twisted sense than history had ever seen, a battle on two fronts. And no one could challenge them…directly. Whatever had happened to cause hostilities between the Shadows and the Vorlons had spiraled, and their tiny feeble alliance was caught in the middle. No one in this age had ever seen battle on this scale, or could even conceive of it. Sheridan, the changed Sheridan, had a plan, but they had to get rid of the Vorlon ambassador first. The Vorlons had targeted Coriana Six, a planet that had been used in the past as a Shadow outpost. They had not just targeted the outpost. They had targeted the entire planet for destruction. It was Markab all over again, except this time, they knew the potential culprits, their would-be allies!

As Havah was preparing the fleets, Lyta Alexander, Delenn, the security team, and Sheridan lured the new 'Kosh' from his quarters. Sensing a trap, a coruscating whirlwind of energy tunneled up towards the hull of the station as the enraged Vorlon shed its trappings of civility. Lightning prickled around it as it sought to destroy the traitors. It targeted Delenn, who had been helping drag an unconscious security member out of the Vorlon's reach. A new force burst from Sheridan's body, the last remaining energy of the late ambassador, and whirled around the towering tornado, engaged in battle. They passed through the hull. Two miles away farther down the station, Havah felt a thousand terrible minds blazing out into space, and lost among them, like a single voice carrying through a blizzard, the one lonely entity she had once seen before, Kosh. The energy dissipated in the vacuum of space. The window into the Vorlon mind was now shut again. She resumed her work.

Anlashok Ericksen was gone. He'd planted the message with the Shadows, sacrificing himself and his entire crew. Death was the best of the possibilities remaining to them. Havah was imminently glad she had not had to give that order. After only a year or so of command, she was tired of giving orders that ended in termination. But the Shadows had taken the bait, and the Vorlons were already on their way to the Coriana system, where the tiny alliance waited. Now the two colossi would have to face one another openly, instead of working through other races. The younger races were done being avatars for gods and demons.

The fleet waited…and waited. Finally, the adversaries appeared, first the Vorlons, then the Shadows, screaming in from hyperspace. They spotted one another and engaged, hundreds of ships of all sizes. The swath of destruction blazed past, and Sheridan gave the order. The mines went off, damaging both Shadow and Vorlon fleets. All eyes, ALL eyes turned to the enormous fleet Sheridan had rallied, dwarfed by the two oncoming forces. Shadow ships wheeled in from three different directions, blasting through a Vreen battle group. A Minbari cruiser's engines were sheared protecting them.

"Na 'Shan, break and attack!" Havah yelled. To her own navigators, "Starboard, 45 mark 30, come up under them! Valeria, right rear, watch your tail!" She broadcast, as one of the White Stars in the alpha wing bucked left away from an actinic beam from a cruiser that phased into normal space right behind them. They were surrounded. The Shadow fighters were everywhere.

A giant Shadow appeared above them. "Evasive maneuvers!" The ship pitched left, but Havah was thrown from her chair and heard the Alecto's hull shriek as a beam struck the right rear guns. "Roll, 360 degrees, pitch 90, get out of their range and behind them! Damage-" Another blast hit the forward shield from another ship and the controls exploded. A piece of the ship came crashing down, burying one of the little navigators, and a couple crew-members ran to put out the fires dotting the panels. "Get out from between them! Swing this ship around, 180 degrees, fire!"

Their beams blasted against the side of the mammoth ship, and they dodged down as rear fire came from the flanking Shadow ship. The shot passed above them and struck the Shadow they were facing. It shrieked in the mind of the shipboard telepath, and both Shadows turned to face the Alecto which had swung in a firing arc under and up behind one of the ships. It crumpled, leaving the one that had fired from behind them. Havah scrambled to pull rubble off of her crushed crew-mate. "Damage report!"

"Shields at thirty percent, damage to the right aft guns! They come again!"

But it wasn't just one ship. One was coming from the right 30 degrees off the port bow, one came directly under, another two were screaming in from the right rear, exactly where they couldn't fire. And the other White Stars were similarly engaged. "Get out from the center-"

A blast from guns she had never seen before pummeled one of the rear Shadow vessels until it withered, and then engaged another, as a gargantuan ship shaped like a giant stone cone with rotating parts on the bottom passed over the White Star. It was one of the First Ones. Havah had no idea which one, but no one cared. The cavalry was here, the ace they had kept up their sleeves. If the Shadows and Vorlons wanted to fight, they would also have to confront their peers.

"Medic!"

Kinann, the navigator was not likely to survive, but there was just enough time to get her out of there before things got desperate again.

"Press them! These guys just saved our asses! Stay on those Shadow ships! Fire!" They followed a black ship, as the other two mammoths were engaged by ancient vessels from beyond the Rim.

And then everything stopped. Motion suspended like giant microbes trapped under a lens, as an image filled everyones' mind. Even the Old Ones, blazing to the rescue, were arrested by the sight of Sheridan and Delenn.

They stood in some dark place out of space and time, each circled by an adversary, demanding time to make their case. Delenn was trapped by a Shadow, or by a Shadow mind. It shifted constantly, presenting itself as people she knew, Marcus, Lennier, herself. Sheridan was trapped by a Vorlon representative, as cryptic and unapproachable as they had always been, an imperious queen encased in ice, spoken at by a pulsing vodor at the neck of the frozen royal. Each spoke as Delenn had known they would. The Shadow believed in the use of conquest and strife to strengthen the survivors, and pare away the weak, just as the adversarial angel had done countless times, challenging the tribes of Israel in the desert. They were the parents that took their kids out in a rowboat in the middle of a hurricane and tossed them over the side, hoping secretly that some of them would make it to shore.

The Vorlon required unquestioning obedience and order, claiming that their charges 'did not understand' when Sheridan challenged their point of view. They were the parents that watched their kids do their homework every night and then beat the tar out of them and kicked them out of the house if they found a birth control device, because they weren't 'their children' anymore. Each was a mirror of the other, Yahweh and Ha-Shatan, or so they saw themselves.

But something had gone wrong, as both Delenn and Sheridan pointed out to the circling demi-gods. In their thousands of years of guidance, they had lost sight of the reason they were fighting, the welfare of their own wards. And as Lorien pulled Sheridan and Delenn out of _illo tempore_, the temporary holding cells in which they had been placed, the younger races were given a choice. This was about who's parenting style was right and who's was wrong, and someone was going to lose, no matter what they chose. A hundred thousand marriages and families had ended like this throughout Human history and the history of nearly every other race watching, and no one, not even Lorien could help them in this.

Holo-images of the Shadow and the Vorlon representatives appeared floating in the air above the bridge, as everyone waited for Sheridan or Delenn to choose, for someone to make a choice. And as Havah watched, her eyes watered with a surge of rage, as intense as any child caught in such a marriage, doomed to lose one or the other parent's regard, but there was a surge of something else. They weren't monsters or gods anymore, these floating images. They were people, just like her, just like all the younger races they had tried to guide, caught in the same traps, no matter how ancient they were. They were parents in truth, who had sacrificed everything for their kids, thousands of years of exploration, the company of their peers, their own identities, to watch over someone else. And it had cost them dearly. It had cost them so much that all that was left to them, finally, was to live vicariously through their children, through their childrens' lives, and for the argument that had consumed their own. As Havah watched them, she felt sad, terribly terribly sad. Their dilemma was no excuse. They had committed incredible atrocities, in the name of their argument, that could not be forgotten. They had been unimaginably abusive parents, so much so that they had caused many of their own problems, driving away their peers. But their original desire to guide…had been real. That couldn't be ignored either.

_Part of growing up means understanding your parents' mistakes, _Havah thought of Neroon, of the moment when he had revealed to her the very same plan that he had used to wipe out thousands of Humans, this time in order to keep her and her fleet alive. The remaining navigator glanced back at her captain, fury written clearly across her face, expecting to see the same anger in Havah, and it was there, but it was mixed with an odd look of pity.

Sheridan refused to be forced into a choice. There was no good choice and so he chose neither of them. The younger races were old enough to make their own decisions now, and no longer needed guidance. "We know who we are and what we want!" He said.

_And you can't hurt us anymore._ Havah thought, like a kid standing up after a father's thrashing.

But they could, and they did. A Shadow missile fired at Sheridan's ship, refusing to accept the dismissal…and a Drazi ship intercepted it. Another one fired, and another ship blocked it again. The alliance was done with being told what to do, by anyone. And Lorien stepped in and backed up Sheridan's choice. He could not have made it for the younger races, but he could support their decision when it was made. It was time for the Old Ones to leave, he told the apparitions. It was time for the First Ones, all of them, to go beyond the Rim and find the larger universe that they now had the capacity to explore, and leave this galaxy to the evolving races. The younger races had to be on their own.

Havah's assessment of the loneliness and the loss of the guardian races appeared true as the Shadow asked, "Will you come with us?" Deprived of the only existence they had known for thousands of years, they were going to be small fish in a very big pond again, and they were scared and alone. Lorien assured them that they would not be alone, that he was leaving too, with them. And then, in a scintillating flash, they were gone, for good. The universe was suddenly empty of the Ancient Ones. A thousand years preparing and it was over.

Havah stared at the space where the myriad fleets had been, and a small disbelieving smile broke across her face. "We're…alive. It's over, and we're still here!" Her own voice sounded incredulous.

Taan, the navigator turned, saucer-eyed, and grinned, letting out her breath and laughing softly. "Yes, Na!"

Havah sat bobbing her head for a minute, tapping her hands against the arm of the chair. "Yeah…yeah…wow…" She said softly. "So…what now?" She gazed at Taan, returning the grin. "…I mean, aside from returning to base…"

"Now…I think I would like to try some hal 'chi…a lot of it." The religious caste woman exclaimed.

Havah laughed. "I think that can be arranged! Let's go home." Taan turned back around, and the Alecto rejoined the alliance fleet.

Havah took most of her savings from her years of previous work, although they weren't much, and threw the biggest shindig she could afford, for her crew and wings. Sheridan approved the use of the observation deck, and Delenn procured several crates of hal 'chi, and Havah had food catered from the Fresh Air restaurant because it had selections for every taste, and got a full bar of alcohol, with a bartender for the night. A few members of the Anla Shok had played instruments professionally before their recruitment, and still had them, and everyone brought music crystals of all styles. Within an hour, most of the attendees, Human and Minbari were on their way to being intoxicated on their various substances, with the exception of course, of Sheridan and Delenn, who alternated back and forth between the Anla Shok party, and the party going on in the Zocalo. "Too vanilla." Havah had said, which completely baffled Delenn.

"I do not understand the context of that word?" She looked at John, as he quickly stifled a smile.

"It's…oh hell, it's a long story. I'll explain later." He assured her.

"Ah." She nodded, no less intrigued.

Everyone popped back and forth between parties as well, for as long as they were capable of walking that far. At around a quarter after midnight, Havah sank down against the window, back to the stars, with her fifth plate of food and another uncounted pint of hal 'chi, across from Taan, who had emptied her glass, and was working on a huge bowl of Death By Chocolate, eyes half-lidded and smiling beatifically. Having never had a sip of 'chi in her life, she had already drunk Trel under the table an hour ago, and he lay sprawled, alternately muttering and giggling to himself in a big folding papasan, rented for the party. They both eyed him, amusingly, as he tried to rise, leaned forward a little too far, and tipped the entire thing over on top of him onto the floor. Havah and Taan burst into hysterical laughter as, head covered under the giant pillow, his arm groped around lethargically trying to tug the pillow aside, and then just flopped back onto the floor.

"Ok, I could just leave him there but that would be mean." She went over, righted the chair, and hauled him onto it. He smiled and fell asleep, arms draped over the sides. "'Night, sweetie." She said and returned to her food.

Taan slurred, "So, the Vorons…and the Shadows…They were shaping us. Deir battles were all about…us?"

"I guess so. Yeah."

"How come you're not…drunk?"

"Because I spent three months on the Yanazha, drinking like a fish, off-duty. I guess I was making up for lost time. I've gotten a tolerance. And I haven't hit the chocolate yet."

"Oh." She grinned. "How did they influence Earth?"

"Well, our myths, maybe. Lots of our cultures have some version of the Vorlons and some version of the Shadows, despite all being so diverse in other ways. In the Torah, there's a particular story about a man named Job. The Adversary doubted Job's loyalty to God, so he was given permission to make all kinds of bad things happen to Job, in order to test his faith, and maybe…to test his strength."

"What kinds of bad things?"

"Disease, like boils, his home was destroyed and he lost his family. Well, Job got really frustrated and angry, but he never denounced God, and he still put up with everything. Finally, Ha-Shatan gave up trying to sink Job. And God gave Job back everything he had lost, because he passed the test."

Taan cocked her head drunkenly. "He gave it back? How'd he do that with the family?"

"I think he just gave Job a new family."

"But, they're not the same people."

"I know. It's just a story."

"So…God was like the Vorons. And the Adversary was like the Shadows, except they worked together instead of fighting."

"Yeah. And I think the Shadows and Vorlons worked together once too, in the beginning. It's interesting. Maybe Earthers knew when the Shadows and Vorlons weren't working together anymore. But we started off more influenced by the Vorlons, so their side of the story was the only one known. About two and a half thousand years ago, something happened in that particular myth cycle. Something changed. There was a new religion, called Christianity, and in their myth, there was a huge fight between God and Ha-Shatan, who had originally been a servant, or at least an ally of God's. According to the story, Ha-Shatan was expelled from Heaven, and the Devil, as he became known, was furious with God and with Man and became bent on destroying Man, especially Man who had been touched too heavily by God. The Devil would tempt Man and snare Humans into betraying the 'ways' God had set out for Man. That was how he got back at God. It sounds like someone on Earth was already sensing the tension between our two 'mentors', but since the Vorlons had a good grip on us, the Vorlons could paint themselves in the righteous light. History is written by the victors."

Taan bobbed her head. "But…so with Job…they were both right. The Shadows and the Vorlons. Because they were both doing their duty to Job."

Havah munched and thought. She had never thought of it that way before. In that instance, it didn't matter who was right about Job's strength, all that mattered was that they were fulfilling their given tasks. How Minbari. "I guess. I guess it depends on whether or not you believe in the messages of the Torah, or the Bible, or anything else, for the 'lesson' to seem right or wrong, because it's different for everyone. That's the problem with relying so heavily on those stories. They oversimplify things that have never been that simple….Man, you know what…speaking of simple, this conversation is giving me a headache. I think it's time for another hal 'chi. What about you?" She held up the bottle.

Taan held out her glass.

"To Kinann." Havah toasted. The girl was in critical condition, and it could go either way. "If we keep drinking her portion then she has to come back, just to yell at us." They resumed getting hammered.

The respite was short-lived. Ships on the border of Minbari space were being attacked, by an overwhelming force, and by a configuration no one had seen. The Shadows were gone. Who was this new threat? Havah made ready to take a contingent of White Stars, but Delenn again pre-empted her.

"This area is protected by the Religious caste. We made a promise long ago to the races in that region, that we would be there if there was ever a need. This is for us to do."

Havah knew better, at this point, then to argue with her. It would get them nowhere.

_I should've argued, I should've argued!_ Havah thought bitterly, after Delenn returned, minus one White Star, with several others limping along after. They had encountered a strange fleet attacking a Pakmara military transport, and destroyed the mother-ship.

"We were successful, but White Star Thirty-seven was destroyed. I am sorry." Delenn's face was troubled. "I have never seen ships like these before. I believe that they may return, but there are even more serious matters to attend to. This encounter brought to my attention how seriously our civil structure has deteriorated back home."

Havah waited silently for elaboration.

"One of my caste members believed it necessary to seek outside aid against the warrior caste."

"He went to outsiders? That hardly seems like a Minbari."

"Precisely. It was he who called this strange fleet there, to meet with me. That is how desperate he was. His family had been driven out by the warrior caste in his village, and left to die of exposure to the elements. That hardly seems Minbari either!"

"So, you met with them, these outsiders?"

Her eyes darkened, and worry-lines deepened. "Yes…They called themselves…the Drakh. They were…servants of the Shadows, and now that the Shadows are gone…"

"They want to destroy anyone in connection with the other side. That was where the skirmish came in?…Drakh…Where have I heard that name before?"

"Yes…it sounds familiar to me, as well. The Centauri have legends about them, nightmarish stories."

"So, it seems they've been around for a while."

"Yes. It would seem so…" She paused and rubbed her hands. "We have been planning and thinking only as far as surviving the Shadows. I do not think that we anticipated that many of us would survive, and now that we are once again alone, we must return to the problems that never went away when we were neglecting them, and to new problems that our victory has brought. I must return to Minbar."

"But you just got back! Sheridan's going to be pissed! He's even crankier when you're away."

She smiled gently. "He is one of the other reasons I must go. I must attend to matters at home, rebuild the Grey Council before our society collapses under the strain of warring factions. And I must leave him to help rebuild your society. He cannot concentrate while I am here. Though he will never admit it, he worries too much about how I think of him. He cannot show the face that he needs to show, while I am here to see it."

Havah nodded, and went to look up a reference that had suddenly come to mind.

She slid the crystal into the port thoughtfully, the story of Valeria. The Minbari encountered a race they called the Kal' tot, the Changelings. But their name for themselves had been different, a glottal thick pronunciation. Where was the reference? It had been mentioned only once, in brief, before the race's own language for itself was disdainfully subdued by the Minbari version. The door chimed and she lost her place. It was an Anla Shok with a report from the Brakiri sector, and a lot of other data that she listened to absentmindedly.

*Author's Note/References: The first reference to an old Earth journalist was based on an essay called 'Report from El Dorado'. It was about media and the way people shape and filter life experiences to either relate that experience as purely as possible, or dull it with a wash of nostalgia. Sheridan was a powerful reminder of the fact that living through hell changes everyone. "A memory has been stolen. It takes a beauty in you to see the beauty of Helen Keller's face, while to cast the face of a Mare Winningham in the role is to suggest, powerfully, that one can return from the depths unscathed. No small delusion is being sold here."—Michael Ventura. The second reference was to a concept by a theorist named Mircae Eliade, called _illo tempore_. It means 'out of time'. It is the theoretical place in people's psyches in which myth is created, because it has no reference to physical space or time. It existed before the world, and is recreated in every ritual that was based on that myth. It is a place of memes, archetypes like the Shadows and Vorlons.

14


	30. Chapter 30

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 30—Choices

Fighting had finally broken out openly on Minbar, in most of the major cities, between the warrior caste and the religious.

_We never get a break!_ Havah thought bitterly. _Finally, we stop having to worry about being stomped by the First Ones, and now we can't hold our own worlds together._ But the order from the Entilzah had been that the Anla Shok were to remain out of the conflict at all costs. Delenn herself was returning to Minbar, since it had been difficult to get news, and her influence as a former Council member and a religious caste leader might prove lucrative. Havah brooded, thinking about Katani and Sorail. At least Neroon, Felshenn, and the crew of the Yanazha were all on patrol. Maybe they would be kept out of it too. And nothing was stopping her from seeing her father. It was time to talk about the things they had been avoiding, at least that she had been avoiding. There were things she wanted to say to him, air to clear, and maybe now there would be a little time, before their respective situations got complicated again.

She rung him up. Felshenn answered. His face betrayed visible relief. "Anlashok Lassee. We received news that you were well. I am glad to see it."

"Really?…I mean…Thanks."

She smiled the first genuine smile at him that he had ever seen. He found that he wanted her to keep doing it. "Neroon cannot be reached at this time…I am sorry. I know that he has been too busy to speak with you. But as you may have heard from home, war is beginning between our castes, and Alyt Neroon is making plans that may end the hostilities."

"Oh?"

"He was…he was contacted by Delenn. Since he has a very strong voice with the warrior caste, and she is influential with the religious caste, they have planned to meet to negotiate. Shakiri even sanctioned the meeting." He looked tense.

"Really! Those two. Boy, I hope that they can resolve things."

"So do I." His visage grew more apprehensive.

"You're worried."

He drew a deep breath. "Yes. I am…worried."

"About Shakiri?"

"Yes. It seems…too easy. But, the crew…I have never seen them like this before. They are extremely restless, and there have been some…discipline problems."

Havah's eyes widened. "Do you think they'll mutiny?"

He remained silent for a moment. "No, not entirely. They are very loyal to Neroon. But they are not happy."

"About going to meet Delenn's ship?"

"Correct." His lips were a tight line.

"So, now wouldn't be the best time to visit him."

"No. Perhaps after the meeting with Delenn, if things have gone favorably. Is there some message that I can convey to him until then?"

"No. No, not really. It'll wait. I just wanted to talk to him about…I just wanted to talk."

He inclined his head. "I understand. I will convey your desire, and let you know when the time is…better."

"Thanks, Felshenn…Good luck."

He smiled. "Thank you, Havah. We will speak soon." He was gone. 

He had been a little nervous about speaking of Shakiri or of the current situation, on even a secure line lately. But it was an odd relief to voice his reserve even in that small measure, to her. She seemed to understand some things without him having to elaborate. The soft little wisp of hair was comforting in his fingers. 

The plan Delenn proposed was insane, as insane as she had always been, but she had been right about many things, and she had displayed a courage in the past days that Neroon now grudgingly respected. She would never be a warrior, but she had successfully fought a war and won, and risked her life to do so. But the Shadow War hadn't dimmed her naivete, not completely. There was no way that just because the two of them, influential or not, appeared on home-world, united, that everyone would simply throw down their arms and give up years of pent-up frustration on both sides.

"Shai Alyt Shakiri will never accept that plan, he will never accept that outcome. You must know this by now. Battle on some scale is inevitable. I cannot prevent this."

Delenn paused. He was right. They had very little chance against Shakiri's forces. "Then there must be some other way…Perhaps…"

Neroon waited impatiently, watching the churn of ideas across her face. He was collaborating with a mad woman. His path had led him to this. But, she had accomplished many things recently, some of which had little to do with her access to resources, but the result of sheer force of will. He suppressed a smile, as a look of epiphany swept across her face. _Oh, by all of the gods, there goes the Galaxy! I have seen that look before._

She continued excitedly. "You know the old laws as well as I, the laws that existed before Valen's coming…If people can be moved into the proper positions…" 

The 'negotiations' did not appear to have gone favorably at all. Shakiri ordered a number of ships off patrol and back to home-world, their crews re-assigned to an invasion force. The crew of the Yanazha was among them. Polenni fidgeted in her fighter, awaiting the drop. The target was a religious caste town reputed to be an insurgent compound. They were harboring religious forces, and an arsenal to be used against the warrior caste. That made them a sanctioned military target. A small squadron of fighters was dispatched to raze the compound. She felt ill. She had felt ill ever since they had returned home for this tour. Her sleep was poor, and her stomach churned constantly, and now, she was having trouble breathing.

_Minbari do not kill Minbari._ She thought. _They do now._ _Valen has been gone for eight hundred years._ The target was in her sights. She locked on to fire the ordnances with a trembling finger. Her breath was raspy and her whole body started shaking. _They are Minbari! My own people. They have no chance against us. They have no chance…Neither did the Humans…I…I cannot do this again._ Her finger slid haltingly off the button, without discharging, as her fighter streaked past the target, and swung up to return to the ship. The other ships had fired, and the town was reduced to rubble and dead. Her disobedience had not saved them.

She pulled into dock, tears streaming down her face. She shut off the controls, ignoring the orders for an explanation of why her ship had not fired, rocked back and forth, and waited for the approaching security team to pull her from the ship.

Things would not go smoothly. Neroon knew this for certain, although he did not know how, or in what way they would backfire. He sat down to compose a message to Havah. There were things he needed to say, but there was no time.

A message was waiting for Havah, when she returned to her quarters. It was from Neroon. His dour face appeared more fragile on the screen, older somehow than the last time she had seen him.

"I am sending you this message because I do not have time to speak with you. There are…matters that I must attend to. You are to remain with the Anla Shok. I understand that you have been tempted to return to Minbar, but I forbid you to do so. I speak as the head of our clan, and as a general in our military, with whom you are still enlisted. You are not to violate that order on either count. That had better be clear." He paused, stumbling over the next words, uncertain. "Havah…I want you to know…that I am…proud of you. You did not believe that I would be, but you are mistaken. You are…Anla Shok. I could not ask for more in a child." His face vanished.

Havah sat down, hard. She realized that she had been waiting acutely to hear that, more than she ever imagined, just as she realized why he must be sending it. She had a vivid image of a dark stone temple and a warrior holding his arms up to his people. He was settling the air, saying what he was afraid he'd never get the chance to say in person. _Oh God! _She leapt up, rushing about the room, gathering things hastily for a trip to Minbar, where she knew he'd be. _Fuck his orders! I'll ask forgiveness when I find him!_

The Star Fire Wheel opened a sliver as Delenn began the challenge. Shakiri's eyes shifted frantically, from her to the waiting, watching crowd. He was stalling, as Neroon had known he would. He was desperately trying to find any way to avoid her call into the Star Fire Wheel, but there was none. The law was clear. Anyone who wished their caste to lead in setting policy must sacrifice themselves to demonstrate the sincerity of their faith in their cause, and their willingness to place their people before their own lives.

Neroon spoke up, finally, unable to stomach his 'superior' officer's dissembling any longer, while Delenn stood in fire. He threw Shakiri's own words back to him. "You said that death is merely one of two possible outcomes, neither valued above the other. You said that death is merely the fulfillment of our obligations. Our people are waiting."

Shakiri's cagey eyes widened at Neroon in surprise and betrayal. He should have known this man's loyalty wouldn't last. It was all in the blood, and he had been sullied by his past, by his Human transgression. He was no better than his wretched daughter. But the Minbari people were watching, all of them. Shakiri stepped slowly into the circle, as it dilated. The beams cascaded through him, pulsing through his cells. Every second was white agony. And that witch wouldn't listen to reason and step out of the fire with him.

Neroon waited apprehensively. It had to work. Either Shakiri would perish, leaving the authority to him, and he could accept Delenn's surrender, and end the war with the honor of the warrior caste intact, or Shakiri would do what he really suspected he would do, leave the circle in shame, in which case Delenn was to walk out after him. Either way, Shakiri would have fallen from power, and thousands of lives would be spared. A minute later, Neroon was rewarded with a pyrrhic victory as Shakiri stumbled out of the wheel, coat smoking, skin scalded, unable to bear the heat. He had never intended to die for his people, in any capacity. Neroon viewed him with disgust, as members of his clan and guard rushed to cover the fallen general. _So this is how it will be_, Neroon thought bitterly_._ He watched Delenn, waiting, but she didn't leave as they had agreed in their contingency plan. The iris was almost at full dilation, and she had been in for more than a couple minutes. If she did not leave soon, the organ damage would be irreversible. He looked to her aide in alarm. She fell to her knees, arms raised, and it became clear that just as Shakiri never had any intention of completing the challenge, she always had. She was not going to leave. He should have known. It was Delenn. First of all, she was insane. Second of all, she had already demonstrated to him numerous times the persistence of her faith and her beliefs, and yet again, he had underestimated her, passing off her conviction as fanaticism. Perhaps it was, but it didn't matter because she acted when she needed to. He had dismissed her as a sheltered lunatic, but she had been putting herself in this fire since the beginning.

_That was why Dukhat chose her. That is why the Anla Shok would die for her. What will happen to our people when she is gone? I do not trust many of the religious caste, but I trust her. They will lead no matter what now. The warrior caste has been disgraced. She must be alive to lead them. But, I am a warrior. If no one of her caste will take her place. I will._ He steeled himself, and with a shout strode into the center of the fire, lifting her and depositing her into Lennier's stunned arms. _Take care of our people, priestess-warrior, as I could not._ He lifted his arms to address the populace, the motion distracting him from the searing of his flesh long enough to allow him to end the war as a member of the religious caste. The future was in Delenn's hands now. He glimpsed a brief flash of brilliant black-ringed golden eyes. _Fatima._ As the fire consumed the last of him, he thought, _Perhaps we will see one another again._

Havah pounded up to the entrance to the Temple of Varenni, stomach in her throat as the severe stone towered above her. She could feel the change in the air, the electricity. The trial had begun. The Star Fire Wheel was open. There was no time left. As she tried to walk past the guards, they threw her back and she landed on her tailbone. They were not going to let her pass. "My father is in there!" She shouted frantically, the panic evident in her voice.

"Humans have no place here! Leave or die."

She drew her pike and began swinging. It flashed silver around her as the two guards fell, followed by two more, four more after that. She almost made it to the colossal stone circle around which the Religious and Warrior caste entourage were gathered. Delenn was unconscious and burned in Lennier's arms. Shakiri lay in a smoldering quivering pile, covered by the cloaks of his guard. In a smaller stone circle, her father's voice echoed through the vault, riddled with sorrow and resolve, his arms upraised, wreathed in flame. "…The war is over! I was born to the Warrior Caste, but I see now, that the calling of my heart is Religious! Listen to her…Listen—"

Havah caught one last glimpse of his burning eyes before he exploded into ash. And then the rest of Shakiri's Wind Sword guard, who had gathered to prevent the entrance of any support for the Religious caste, bore down on her and she collapsed in a rain of crushing blows. They dragged her unconscious form and tossed her like a sack into a small cell in the heart of the Wind Sword's closest military compound. Guards stood at either side of her cell. She lay on her side, catatonic, head to the cold stone floor. Crusted blood became sticky again, wet by the saliva that dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her father's voice plagued her ears, and his face turned to dust burned into the backs of her eyelids. She lay there for hours, not moving, not responding to any jeers, or to the food slid in.

There was another rustle of movement, which she paid no more mind than she had the changing of the guards. Felshenn's voice filtered through the daze, steely. "I am here to retrieve Havah Lassee of the Family of Callier. You will release her into my custody, by the order of the Council of Caste Elders."

" I see no order in your hands. She was trespassing and engaging in combat against Shai Alyt Shakiri's guard. The conditions for the surrender of the Religious caste were specified. She violated those rules by attempting to pass the guard. The Anla Shok were to remain neutral. Now she must face correction. She remains in the Wind Sword's custody." The guard replied smugly.

Felshenn resisted the urge to grab the shorter, stockier man by the collar of his jerkin and heave him bodily out of the way. He gritted his teeth and persisted. "She was not acting in her capacity as an Anla Shok, and she had no intention of attacking the guard or of providing aid to the Religious caste. She was merely trying to reach her father before he died." The guard began to speak, but Felshenn raised his voice over him. "IN addition, it is not the responsibility of the Wind Swords or of Shakiri's guard," He emphasized the lack of Shakiri's formal title, "to provide discipline."

The guard sneered, "But—"

"But what? The Council of Caste Elders is to dictate punishment in all matters concerning caste and clan, and until then, the offender remains in the custody of his or her own clan. That is the law." The man hesitated, wavering. The other one glared at Felshenn as if trying to melt him with his gaze. He ignored it. "Would you like me to show you my orders? Or even better, I will just leave and return with a member of the Council, and you can demonstrate your great attention to duty and devotion to the 'Shai Alyt', to them." He turned to leave, but the hesitating guard moved hastily and shut off the barrier to the cell, and stood grudgingly aside. Felshenn stalked up to the other, still standing between him and the bloody Human lump on the floor, and gazed coldly into his eyes, unblinking. Reluctantly, still holding Felshenn's stare, he stepped minutely aside.

Accepting the concession, Felshenn brushed past him roughly and stood next to Havah's fetal body. "Havah Lassee, of the Family of Callier, you are under house arrest, by the Order of the Council of Caste Elders, and the orders of the Star Riders clan!"

He grabbed her by the arms, lifting her bodily to her feet. She choked and began painfully rasping, stumbling against him. With his fingers biting into her shoulder and arm, he roughly pushed her ahead of him to the waiting flyer. As soon as they were a distance away from the compound, he glanced at her dull gaze with concern.

She climbed out slowly at the entrance to Neroon's spacious quarters, and then crumpled and fell. He caught her under her arms, picked her up and carried her inside, laying her gently on the bed. He left the room and returned with first aid supplies, and began wiping away the dried blood at her temple. She winced, put up her arms and began trying move away from him. One side didn't appear to be working right, making her more frustrated. He pulled her back down, softly but firmly. "Stop….Shhhhh. It's alright. The physician will be here soon." He dabbed at a gash matted with hair. "I do not see how he is going to treat your wounds with all of this…hair in the way."

She relaxed slightly, curling up away from him. "Hit me and get it over with! Or kill me, I don't really care!"

He sighed and tried to smooth the mat of hair out of the way. "The Council, including the new leader of the Wind Swords clan, has met already. They decided that you have received enough punishment. I agree. Don't you?"

She turned over and stared at him. "You lied? To the guards?"

"I changed the sequence of events." He looked down at the pink water. "I did not think that they would allow you to leave if they had known of the Council's final decision, despite the possibility of defying their own clan leader. Shakiri has great charisma and has had undue influence over many of the young warriors under his command." He scrubbed at a nasty laceration near her ear. She suppressed a gasp at the sting, but remained motionless, still looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He took her left hand. It twitched slightly, involuntarily, and he could feel edges of bone shifting where they shouldn't. She didn't even respond. He set it down and wrapped a cold packet around it. "This would never have happened if you had obeyed your father, and stayed on Babylon 5. He sent the message to you so that you would not come."

At the reminder of the last message, Neroon's face flared in her memory. She wasn't prepared for it, and her stoicism and the numbness she had maintained to keep it, dissolved. Great wracking sobs shook her frame, wrenching her cracked ribs and sending shooting pain through the right side of her body.

Felshenn was completely aghast. Watching her, it looked as if the small Human would break. He had never felt so helpless, and he put his hand on the one spot on her head that didn't look bruised. After that, it seemed easier to touch her this way. He pulled his gloves off and gingerly lifted her into his arms and sat down on a couch. The cold pack fell ineffectually to the floor. Her battered face was buried in her hands, as tears and sweat leaked out from underneath. He tenderly lowered her hands and held them in his, and laid his cheek against her tangled hair. Despite her ordeal, it still smelled faintly like fruit, like that hair soap she used. After another minute, the cries subsided, and she breathed deep. The door chimed, the physician was here. She moved slowly off his lap. Felshenn braced her as she hobbled back to the bed, and then he hailed the doctor to come in, and left the bedchamber.

The doctor looked grim. He reported to the tall soldier hovering near the door. "She has a severe concussion, accompanied by a slight swelling of the brain. I have given her something to reduce the swelling, but there may be permanent damage. She has lost the feeling in her left side. It is probable that it will return, but it is too early to tell. Several of her ribs are cracked, two bones in her left hand are broken, and there is internal bleeding. Her kidneys are bruised. They will fully heal, but she will be in considerable pain until they do. I have treated her for all of these injuries as much as possible, and she is resting now. She must rest for the next few days, and her ribs and head will prevent her from doing strenuous exercise, but she must continue to move her left side. The neurons will be more likely to recover if they are used." But she had refused to let him cut her hair to get closer to the head wound. She clutched at the unruly mane, until he agreed reluctantly not to remove it. Humans were vain about the strangest things, he thought. He sighed and bandaged her head as best he could. He left Felshenn with instructions for her care and left.

She slept on and off for the next two days, only waking when Felshenn came in. He tended her wounds, walked her around the room, made her write, squeeze and lift things to exercise her left side, and made her eat and drink, and then left her to return to sleep. She woke up in the middle of a nightmare of swirling ash and blazing light, and he was there, sitting silently. He put a cold cloth to her forehead and stroked her hair until she dropped into sleep again. The next day, he wrung a smile from her with his report. "No one died in your altercation, but several of Shakiri's guard remain in the infirmary, nursing injuries from your denn bok. It would appear that Durhan's training was not entirely lost upon you." Slowly, the feeling in her left side returned. In two weeks, her equilibrium was almost normal again.

Felshenn raced after her swift heels. Actually, she was not so swift. Havah was a terrible sprinter, even in the greatest of hurries, and she couldn't even walk without losing her balance a couple of weeks ago, so how had he wound up trailing behind her? He reached out to grab her elbow, but missed and arrived just in time to see her pass Wind Sword guards. Shakiri licked his lips like a great black predator, his eyes gleaming maliciously.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? It's Neroon's little accident. The Star Rider's dirty little secret. Isn't there a Human phrase I heard once? As dull-witted as they are, occasionally they come up with something fitting…Bastard…isn't that the word for someone born in shame…and of a beast no less! Well, at least he redeemed some of the honor of your clan during the war with the Earthers by ridding us of so many of them…in the tens of thousands, wasn't it? Tell me, was your mother's mongrel line among those who died? I know he did not kill the beast herself, because it was you who accomplished that. Yes…I believe it was."

Havah had gone white-faced and thin-lipped with fury, ignoring the wave of dizziness. Her entire body shook and her hand trembled as she raised it to clench her denn bok.

Felshenn drew himself up to his full six foot two behind her, rigid with the effort of controlling himself. She could feel him boil as he spoke, venom saturating every breath. "This from a man who could not endure the Star Fire Wheel, who when placed in a position of supreme authority, could not see beyond himself to the needs of his clan or his caste, or any of the Minbari people! Neroon did far more than redeem himself and the Star Riders! He redeemed our entire caste, from the disgrace that YOU brought upon it. Even Havah, a simple hybrid, raised in the ways of the 'beasts' as you called them, was capable of not only learning, but adhering to our traditions with honor, when it was asked of her. While you were raised in one of the greatest of the old warrior houses_, _with the finest schooling and training, and yet your pure blood did not stop you from casting our people away to serve your own ambitions! You are the stain upon the warrior caste. Not she!"

Shakiri snarled and took a step forward, as Havah almost dropped the denn bok in surprise at Felshenn, her fury momentarily forgotten. But it came flooding back and she unsheathed the pike with a quick press.

Shakiri stopped and stood, breaking into slow vitriolic laughter. "Are you challenging me, little abomination? If so, your friend cannot help you." He grinned, and motioned in a deep taunting bow. "Do you think his lessons were thorough enough for you to survive an attempt at vengeance? By all means…Are you challenging me?"

Felshenn drew a sharp breath behind her, and for the second time in his secular warrior's life, he prayed to any gods listening to cool her off. _I'll kill the coward if he even touches her!_

She stood frozen in rage. She didn't care about what Shakiri called her. She had endured far worse tongue-lashings from Felshenn concerning her genetics. And she couldn't have cared less what he thought about the Star Riders. But the mention of her father and her mother themselves, after all those years of waiting, all those months of tense words and silences between her and Neroon. And now he was dead…because of the man who stood before her. Her lips quivered, her whole body vibrated. Nothing in her life had ever made her so angry, as her eyes blurred with hot tears and choking blistering hatred for the man who stood mocking her. The Wind Sword soldier, like the Wind Sword soldiers who lay mingled among the Star Rider dead on Ki Shad'ha, the Plain of Six Thousand. _'Into the Valley of Death rode the six-hundred'_ , Tennyson's words echoed in her mind, as her father's glassy eyes stared at the empty sky, throat torn by a Wind Sword blade, as her father peered through the flames seeing nothing but the last agonies of the Star Fire Wheel and his flesh turned to dust. _Why did he die? To stop this, to stop the six-thousand._ With a shudder, she retracted the pike, tears coursing down her face, and swept past the dazed Moon Shield and into the dark. Ignoring Shakiri's taunts, he shook off the surprise and followed her without another glance at the pathetic man.

He caught up with her at the edge of the stream bordering the temple. She sat, huddled miserably against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and she didn't look at him. "I don't give a rat's ass what you think."

"How do you know what I think? I was not aware that you had acquired telepathic abilities."

She didn't respond, just sniffed and sighed and fixed her gaze on the water. He bent slowly, stiffly and sat beside her.

She glanced at him and then back to the grass at the edge of the stream. "Alright. Fine. What do you think?"

He paused and breathed deeply and nodded. "I think that it was the strongest thing you have ever done."

Her eyes were on him now. She said nothing.

He shook his head speaking carefully at his hands in his lap. "Do you think that a Minbari soldier's honor lies only in the capacity for violence? Your father's actions were to remind us of the truth. In the past, our passions led us to commit violence, not only against our own people, but against our own caste. Valen tried to stop that cycle, but he could only impose laws, and so it failed. The Grey Council failed because the change had to come from our own hearts. The calling of the heart is stronger than any law, as you know." He looked at her gently. "No one knows more than I how your blood boiled and how much it took for you to lower your pike and refuse the desire for vengeance. He was my teacher, my superior officer, and my friend. You know too well the rage of the Minbari when we are injured, your mother's people know it, and you know it in your own blood. That is why it was necessary for you to walk away. Someone had to. Neroon wanted peace between the clans and among our people. It was why he allied himself with Shakiri to begin with, someone whose clan has been historical enemies with the Star Riders. He believed Shakiri's claims, at first, to unite the warrior caste in the face of the injustices of the past. So instead of fighting amongst ourselves as a caste, we fought together against the rest of our people. The Religious caste became the enemy, just as the Humans did fourteen years ago. We didn't learn the lesson that was offered us then about creating an enemy in order to avoid our own strife. You did what your father would have wanted you to do. If you had challenged Shakiri, you would have continued the cycle and the Star Riders would have been dragged into hostilities after you. When Shakiri abandoned the Star Fire Wheel, it was an act of cowardice, and our greatest leader was lost as a result, very nearly as great a crime as when the Earthers killed Dukhat. He is almost as hated now, except by his own clan, and then even by some of those. The Star Riders are enraged. They need very little reason to descend into blood, and renew the old battles. Fortunately, the new leaders are working to resolve things, as we speak. It is a law that Minbari do not kill Minbari. That is why Valen discontinued the practice of such duels, because they didn't work. We once denounced Humans because of your lack of control over your passions. Because we thought that we had managed to sublimate our own. We were wrong."

She stared at him, astonished at his admission. "But…what about the clan, and all that stuff about responsibilities and loyalty that he taught me?"

"Do you think vengeance was what he wanted for you? Neroon is gone. Your death will not bring him back. That was why he did not recall you from the Anla Shok, whom he knew must remain neutral. It was also why he forbade you to return to Minbar until this war was over, an order which you of course ignored."

"But the Star Riders would have attacked Shakiri?…"

"Because of Neroon, and also because of you. Yes…Why are you so surprised? You still do not understand what it means to be part of a clan, do you? Your father retrieved you from Psi Corps. Do you think he did so without assistance from the Star Riders? He could have, but he did not. He also had assistance from my clan, because he is my teacher, and I owe him my loyalty. And because…I am affected by what happens to you in a way that has nothing to do with my clan or yours."

She couldn't stop staring at him. He reached out with one gloved hand and stroked the side of her face gently and then took her hand in his and returned to gazing out at the water. Sorrow lined his eyes. She edged a little closer to him and held his hand a little tighter. The sound of the trickling water made her drowsy, and she laid her head on his shoulder tentatively. He smiled slightly and drew her into his arms, allowing her to rest the back of her head more comfortably against his chest, braced against the top ridge of his breast panel. His lips brushed the top of her thick hair. She was asleep within minutes.

11


	31. Chapter 31

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 31—The Uses of Shame

Havah did not say the Kaddesh for Neroon. He was Minbari to the core, and so she mourned him as a Minbari warrior would, by fasting, and, with her own hands, interning his ashes beneath the stone circle in which he had sacrificed himself. Felshenn stood at attention, with the crew of the Ingata. The Star Riders clan, banners held aloft, also stood in attendance. In fact, as many of the warrior, religious, and worker caste as would fit in the temple, crammed in behind his clan and crew to pay their respects, and pilgrimages would be flowing in and out for the next ten cycles of mourning following the ceremony. Havah noticed, however, that though many of the crew of the Yanazha appeared to be present, she had not spotted Kol or Polenni. They were Wind Swords, and fond of Shakiri, but many of the Wind Swords even, were present, and Havah had thought that they had been fond of Neroon, as well. She put away a tinge of doubt for later, and resolved to ask someone from the Yanazha. Felshenn nodded to her to begin. There had been some controversy surrounding her role in the ceremony. Though she was his child, she was not a clan leader, and she was not fully Minbari. But with Felshenn's influence, the circulation of her altercation with Shakiri's guard, protests had quickly fallen silent.

She cupped the urn between her hands, and spoke as loud as she could. "Alyt Neroon was not a simple man. He lived as a warrior and died as a priest, leading the Minbari people to peace. He was a leader in life, and his character, honor and wisdom will guide long after his death, the yardstick against which we measure our choices." Her voice dropped in timbre, becoming more personal. "I did not know him for as long as many of you. I learned he was my father two and a half years ago, and only recently did we speak as family. It is no secret that we had our differences of opinion, but in that short time, he saved my life, trained me despite the lack of any formal injunction to do so, and displayed more faith than I ever believed I would see in him. He loved the Minbari people more than anything else in the universe. This I know, and with that knowledge I lay his ashes in the earth of Minbar." She kneeled, pulled back a flagstone in the stone circle, and emptied the contents of the urn.

Felshenn watched as she lowered the stone plate back into place. _Perhaps someday I will live up to his expectations, up to the soldier he was._ He started a little as Havah teetered. Her fast was excessive for her Human physiology, particularly since she was not healed, although this had not stopped her from storming off to find Shakiri as soon as she could walk again, and found out the reason Neroon had been in the Star Fire Wheel at all. _I should have kept my enormous mouth shut for a few more days!_ It wouldn't have mattered though, he finally conceded, just like it didn't matter now that she was fasting against medical advice. She was Neroon's daughter in every way. No one, particularly doctors, could tell her anything. As she stood, he called the crew to fall back into marching formation, as the Star Riders did the same, and the great drums thundered. The troops parted for the Bearer of the Ashes, and then followed Havah out of the temple. 

"You did well." He said, when they were alone on the Ingata. It was in dry dock, as he attended to Neroon's military affairs. According to Delenn's appointment, a spot was held open for Neroon, in memoriam, on the new Grey Council, which she formed as soon as she was capable of standing and speaking. And while the Grey Council could function without their leader, for ten cycles, the Ingata and the Minbari Na'Shan battalion could not function without its general for that long. The new captain was likely to be Felshenn, but while that was decided, Neroon's assignments were his responsibility. Havah began lifting a box of Neroon's personal effects, to be shipped to the family home in the region of Tinarel, to the little town she had visited ages ago, but Felshenn motioned for her to put it down. "It will be attended to."

She sagged into a chair. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. You need to recover so that you can finish your term on the Yanazha. Although Delenn has asked that you remain on active duty to the Anla Shok for now. The new head of your clan agreed. As soon as you are well, you can return to Babylon 5. Delenn wished to give you time to grieve."

Havah sighed and fidgeted. "What about Polenni and Kol? I didn't notice either of them at the ceremony."

"From the Yanazha? I do not know."

"I'll talk to Kilshinn. I'm sure he does. He hung out with them all the time."

He nodded, returning to sifting through crystal files, paused and then turned to her again. "What happened during the battle at Coriana Six? I've heard from a number of different people that the Shadows and Vorlons are both now gone…for eternity. I heard that they have both been using us, fighting over us as though we were trophies to win in an argument between the two races."

Havah stared into space for a moment. "No, I don't think so. I mean, I don't think it started that way. I really think they meant well, both of them, and then they just got lost in their own perceptions of how to 'raise us'. That's gotta count for something doesn't it?"

His answering glower said otherwise. He peered at her intently. Asking what had happened, in terms of the event, would never get him the answer he was really looking for. He had encountered several people who had been there. Some, like Havah, felt pity and sadness for the departed Old Ones, others only rage. But all of them were changed by the encounter in a way that he couldn't reach, because he had not been there. Looking at her now, her pensive eyes, lost in some moment of revelation, he knew that the battle of Coriana Six would be a distance between them that he could never bridge, not completely. And he fought back a wave of frustration over Shakiri's orders to remain on patrol when a galactic-scale war was being fought, a useless sentiment now that it was over, and Shakiri had been thrown from power. _At least we are rid of him. That is something._ But the resentment at the chain of events remained, niggling at him like a grain of sand in a cut.

It was not his pattern to ruminate, but he found himself thinking about the new Grey Council. "On your world, there have been many…revolutions surrounding your various governments. I recall reading about them. Many of them were exceptionally violent. This was one salient characteristic. Another was that many had their origins in the working class, in 'grass-roots' organizations. Another note of similarity between them seemed to be that the revolt often focused on the inability or unwillingness of the ruling class to redistribute the resources of society, or to allow for a free flow of ideas. The various ruling bodies all seemed to fall to the same flaws, without exception, a great deal of power in the hands of a few individuals who were detached from the realities of their populace…just as the old Council floated among the stars, creating policy without knowing the needs or hearts of the people they were made for. And now, the Council has _five_ Workers, two Warriors, and two Religious caste members." He paused fiddling with a control on the screen without seeing the image display. "I think perhaps…this is a good decision."

Havah cocked her head. "No system is perfect, at least I've never seen one. I think its good too, but there can be really rich people in any group that get used to their opulence and forget where they came from, it happens all the time. Look at the old American oil barons…and the old Communist government of Russia. It was started by the working party. It was a great idea, but it didn't work out quite the way they hoped it would, not because the system was horribly wrong, just that it's too easy in any system for the wrong people to exploit the balance of power, no matter what it is. I guess some systems are worse than others, but it's the people you get in there that really make or break it."

He smiled. "All true. I believe, though, that Delenn has chosen the new Council wisely. I know both of the warriors. It is a pity that it took so long for our society to re-arrange itself. Humans are quick to speak up and throw everything up in the air and change everything around them, but the Minbari…are more cautious. We wait and do things as they have always been done until finally…"

"Until finally you blow up, and everybody had just better get the hell out of your way."

He laughed and inclined his head. "Yes, I suppose you might say that. And what we end up with, looks much like how we began. The old ways creep in and alter the changes until they do not seem so foreign anymore. But they do not always do what they were intended to do. I have been reading the original writings of Valen. The Grey Council that he constructed following the first Shadow War looked very little like the Grey Council that was disbanded, although we have claimed tradition for a thousand years. The injunction for the leader of the Council to remain always on a ship far from the people, was never part of the original practice. Valen was the first leader of the Grey Council, and when he was not at war, he was on Minbar, among us. And, this was interesting, no one had to specially petition to speak with the Grey Council. Most of their sessions were closed of course, but there were regular open meetings scheduled at which anyone could attend for the sole purpose of voicing an idea, concern, or issue. Cases were presented and discussed and then decisions were made later in the closed meetings, based on the elaborated arguments. I do not know when was the last time an average citizen of Minbar ever spoke about matters of government with one of the Council, when the Council became unapproachable gods instead of statesmen. I believe that seclusion must be a carry-over from earlier days, when caste leaders were the supreme authority. They were never questioned, and that power became focused in certain families."

"The Star Riders?"

"That was one family, yes."

Havah mused. "Pseudoaristoi."

"What?" Felshenn looked up. "I do not know that word."

"Pseudoaristoi, it's a term Jefferson used in one of his letters in the early days of the United States, the region of the Earth that I'm from. Jefferson was a statesman, and later became a president. He was one of the early U.S. leaders. He helped to create the democracy. Our system of government was formed on the idea of 'One man, One vote', to explain it roughly. This system was supposed to create free enterprise, free market, freedom of association, of speech, and a number of other guaranteed rights, because it was supposed to even the playing field for all people, regardless of background, lineage, religion or anything else."

"You say 'supposed to'. I gather that it did not turn out as planned."

"No. It did provide a system that worked better than many others at the time, but it was a rocky start, and only got rockier. And it never did create true equality. What happened was that instead of direct representation of one man, one vote, a group of people were chosen to represent regions, and to represent the vote for a collective, for the majority of votes in their assigned area. It was called the 'electoral college'. So, my electoral representative would vote for the choice that the majority of the people in my state voted, even if not everyone in the state voted for that choice."

"So? I do not understand why that is bad, why it is not representative, as you say."

"Well, think statistically. If the margin of difference is small, then a lot of people's votes, even if they are the minority in that _particular_ state, are unrepresented. The problem is that not all states have the same number of people in them, so a lot of people wind up not being represented because in a collective system, all the numbers wind up being rounded off into a binary choice. It's a trick of boundaries and districting. If you do it by section and by representative it falsely removes the opposing choice. If you give a direct vote, and count the entire population as one population, then the differences and choices are more accurately represented, and the policy has to be created that does not overlook those differences. Get it?"

"I suppose. I still do not understand your reference to 'pseudoaristoi.' Pseudo' means false…yes?"

"Aristoi is aristocracy. A false aristocracy was created out of the free enterprise system, a privileged class that made a lot of money. There's nothing wrong with that of course, but it created a group of people that were able to use the power that money gave them in a free market society to shut out other groups of people, whose only real problem was that they didn't have the money or social standing to advance. Opportunity was not truly equal for everyone."

Felshenn shook his head slowly. "Then I suppose that our two societies have far more in common than I would have thought. No one says it of course, but there are soldiers from smaller clans who were not eligible to enter the premier fighting academies. It was always claimed that their skill, and that of their clan did not meet our standards, but I saw many of them in combat, and I do not believe that is true. Many of the members of the Grey Council throughout the years have been watched from a very young age, and it was almost expected that one day, they would fulfill the honor of their clan by becoming prominent in our society. Nearly all of them were from…distinguished families already….I supposed that is why I was shocked when your father requested me as his aide, even over the expected choice, a warrior from his own clan."

"From what I've seen, the Moon Shields are nothing to sneeze at!"

He cocked his head uncertain about the meaning of the term or whether it was a compliment or not. "They are a proud and honorable clan…but not nearly as prominent as…"

"As the Star Riders."

He dipped his head.

"Stop idolizing him, will you? He picked you because he obviously didn't care about that. You should know better than anyone that he didn't take crap from anyone. For God's sake, he had to wait until he knew he was going to die before he could even give his own daughter a compliment, so you know how picky he is about people! Get over it! He picked you because he thought you, YOU individually were worth his time."

Felshenn smiled somberly, and his voice was quiet. "Don't judge him so harshly, Havah…He thought more of you than he could say."

"Yeah, you said that once before, and I still don't believe you. And don't give me that shit about Minbari not lying!"

He sighed. "There's something you should know."

"What?"

He shook his head again. "Your conception was not as…emotionally sterile, as you have been led to believe, by either of your parents."

She just looked confused.

"It is true that you would not have been conceived if it had not been for alien intervention…but the behavioral devices that your parents experienced…cannot do what you believe they can, what your parents believed they could do."

"Are you saying they lied?"

"No. I am saying they…gave the devices more power than they really possessed. I was in the Hall of Dreaming with Neroon when he saw your mother, when they conceived you. What I saw was more than the physiological or hormonal alteration of the device. And what I saw afterwards, after he was no longer under its influence…Those devices triggered a surge of hormones, yes. But they could not make your parents act as they did. They could have resisted. They chose not to. It may not have been a conscious choice, but it was still within their power to resist each other. He loved her. The device gave him a reason to follow his heart, in a way that he did not have to admit, even to himself. And I believe, based on what you have told me, that it was the same with your mother. I saw his face after he found out she was dead. The device could not make him grieve for her as he did. You came to know him well enough to know that he was…not fond of aliens, and he believed passionately in the traditional ways. And yet, he acknowledged you and tried to guide you, even against the initial decision of the Council of Caste Elders. What he did was…unusual, wouldn't you say? Especially considering your previous record, and your appearance. He risked a great deal of shame in letting others know of your existence. But you are a part of her, the only part that he could still hold onto."

She just sat, stunned. 

"Havah, I am warning you, do not go rushing off to Proxima Three! You are not well yet, and I will inform the Star Kill-" Havah shot Felshenn a venomous glare. "…I will inform _Sheridan_ of your condition—"

"You stay out of this! This isn't your fight, this is about Earth!" She shouted.

"I might have said the same thing about your appearance at the Temple of Varenni—"

"But my father was there—"

"Engaged in a duty to our world that existed before you knew who the Minbari were!…" He raised his hands to his crest in exasperation. "Look…I know you are angry. What happened to those civilians was an abomination, but you must stop reacting to everything you see, and learn to plan. Act instead of react."

"And what about them? What about Sheridan and Ivanova? You think they're not _reacting_ to what Clark ordered? Get off it, they're gunning for Proxima Three because they're as pissed as the rest of us!"

"Perhaps they are moving now, because now is the best time to act."

"AND BECAUSE THEY'RE PISSED!" She blazed. "Felshenn…ten-thousand civilians, non-combatants! Let that number sink in for a minute."

She stood trembling, and gasping from the ache in her ribs, where he had tried to restrain her, forbidding her from leaving Minbar.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the door, gazing at her. He knew he had lost the battle to keep her in recuperation as soon as the most recent broadcast went out from "The Voice of the Resistance". Proxima Three, Mars, and a number of other colony worlds were in full revolt, and Clark's most recent atrocity had been to order the military blockade at Proxima Three to gun down civilian ships carrying refugees escaping from the war zone. He had watched the broadcast with her. A stone fell into his gullet as the ships exploded, freezing a billion droplets of civilian blood into the vacuum. Havah's eyes filled with enraged tears, and any dim hope he might have had for his Human friend that their civil war might be avoided with some peaceful solution vanished as quickly as the victims' life-heat. This war would be as bloody as any their world had seen before. There was no Star Fire Wheel to end it for them. He knew this as he stood looking at her now.

"I started at Proxima Three, during the war with the Minbari, remember?"

"And you used up a great deal of good fortune then, did you not? Sheridan will take Proxima Three back. It is too late now, for you. By the time you get there, the battle will already be fought, and either won or lost."

She slumped, and turned to lean beside him.

He took her hand gently. "Stubbornness has always been a flaw in your ancestral line."

She turned her head and glared sourly at him.

But he merely continued, blithely. "There will be other ways for you to serve…" His manner became somber. "This will not be the last conflict before your world is restored. You know this, do you not? And it will not be the most difficult."

She shook her head, silently. 

Kilshinn's eyes seethed with fury. "Polenni has been taken to the stockade, as has Kol."

Havah gaped in astonishment. "What do you mean? They were the poster children for the warrior caste! What the hell are they doing in the stockade?"

"She disobeyed a direct order, to fire…on a compound full of religious caste. Intelligence reports indicated that they were stockpiling weapons against the military, and Polenni is an expert marksman, so she was sent with the squadron to destroy the compound. When her ship reached position, she refused to fire, and so she was arrested, for refusing to violate the law of Valen! Kol…loves her. He would not see her disgraced alone, especially not for that, and so he charged the guards as they brought her to the brig. Five are still recovering."

"But…but, I don't get it! I mean, Alyt Rennir seemed so reasonable, so did Narsa Diri, why are they doing this, why did they give those orders?"

"Because they had their own orders to follow from Shakiri! Do you not see? Everyone had their orders to follow, even them."

"But they could have refused, like Polenni!"

"And what then? What then, naïve Halfling? Then, the warrior caste would have been sundered, by the factions close to Shakiri, and the Yanazha would have been destroyed. Narsa Diri said that they were to be released after corporal punishment, with no further charges held. Their disobedience, even Kol's, was to be pardoned and wiped from their record, but just before that happened, Shakiri ordered them to remain incarcerated and to be transferred to the custody of their clan. They are there now."

"But, but…he…he is a shai alyt, and head of the Wind Swords clan…so…"

"So he is within his rights on both counts to order whatever he wishes to be done, concerning their fate."

"Can we see them, now that Shakiri's gone?"

"I do not know where they are. None of the Wind Swords loyal to Rennir seem to know either." 

The memory of the fires blazing across the compound lit the backdrop of Polenni's eyelids, and wrenched her from rest far more brutally even, than the searing pain of the broken bones, and the burn on the left side of her face, where members of Shakiri's guard had held her down and branded her with the mark of a traitor. But even this agony paled in comparison to the sick anger of the betrayal by her own clan. Once out of the custody and sight of the Yanazha guards, reluctant to relinquish her, as though they knew what would follow, members of her own clan had flogged her until she lost consciousness, kicking her supine body long after she fell to the ground in submission. When she regained consciousness, four of them had sat on her, grabbing her head and holding her still, while they burned her. She lay, choking on gasps and refusing to eat. The pain in her stomach was overwhelming.

A physician had been sent in to examine her and treat her to make sure that she didn't die. No one wanted to be responsible for murdering one of his own clan. The physician treated her fractures and declared that her stomach had been ruptured. After the surgery, she was left in peace for a short while. She knew the Wind Swords had always been known for ferocity in battle, and for somewhat extremist opinions concerning the society of Minbar and other races, but she had never experienced this ferocity towards her. And as devastating their attacks had been against non-Minbari and against other clans, their rage was even more savage against their own. She had never seen such intense hatred in those of her own clan. It would have frightened her if it had been against anyone, but this…silent sobs shook her until she forced her throat still, refusing to give anyone watching the satisfaction of seeing her terror. The news of Havah's captivity had reached her, but Havah had been released into her own clan's custody. Where were the more reasonable members of her clan? Why weren't they speaking up?

_What if they don't know? If Shakiri is in power, no one but those expressly loyal to him may know. And if he is not in power still, then it will not matter. No one loyal to him will tell anyone I am here._ She stifled another wave of panic. Kol had gone mad when he saw her, and she could still hear her own screams as the guards subdued him. She hadn't seen him since, and could only assume he was being kept separate, given his reaction when he had seen her last. She lay for a long time, staring at the walls. _We are taught to accept death, especially in the face of the enemy. Now the enemy is my own clan, how can that be? And what I face may be worse than death. I will be maimed and dishonored to a world that may never see me again. They may keep me here forever, and never tell my family the truth. They have already done so. They will dishonor me, and what is my life worth now? All I have left is the satisfaction of forcing them to kill me, dishonoring them as they have dishonored me. They cannot keep my death a secret forever. But they will say that I tried to kill them first, and turn it around. What does any of it matter now?_ She thought, the despair giving her a dull numb resolve. She pulled herself over to the edge of the electrostatic barrier.

"Guards! You may as well know now that I will never repent for my refusal of my orders! Call me whatever you like, but I will never be silent about the fact that the REAL TRAITOR IS SHAKIRI!" Her voice slid into a scream. "He ordered us to harm our own souls! He broke the law of Valen! HE IS A CRIMINAL, NO BETTER THAN THE HUMANS WHO FIRED ON DUKHAT!"

Infuriated guards shut off the barrier and backhanded her.

She toppled to the floor, gasped and kept yelling. "Shakiri is just like a Human in his lust for world domination and Minbari blood—"

Blows rained down on her and she curled against them, while one of the guards picked her up and slammed her against the wall, his knife at her throat. She shrieked into his face. "Do it! DO IT! I am a traitor, remember? Do it for the honor of the Wind Swords!"

He paused, eyes full of rancor, flickering with uncertainty for a moment.

She shrieked in his face, like the voice of the Furies. "SHAKIRI IS A 'MOTHERFUCKER' AND EATS THE DROPPINGS OF HUMANS!" She had heard Havah use that word, and though she had very little idea what the term meant, she knew enough to understand the gist. Worse, it was a Human-style insult.

He roared and his hand closed about her throat, while the knife plunged into her abdomen. She finally remained silent, as a dim look of triumph passed over her features, accenting the dawning look of horror across the faces of the other guards at the act, and the guard who had stabbed her, as much because of the realization that she had won.

And then each guard crumpled to the floor as bolts from stunners hit them and three units of soldiers flooded in, accompanied by other members of the Wind Swords clan. "Send for a medic immediately! She's bleeding out! In Valen's Name!" Polenni heard one of them shout, through the roar in her ears. _I'm free!_

Kol's big rough hand around hers was the first thing she felt as she crawled up from the dark. And Havah's annoying face was the first thing she saw. And then Kilshinn, Ashar, and Neroon's lanky former-aide. _So I have not gone beyond the veil then. I am still stuck here, with these idiots!_ But she had never been so happy to see this motley collection, as she was now.

"Hey! Hey dude, you're awake! How're you feeling?" A solicitous smile broke across Havah's face.

Polenni tried to speak, but her mouth was a desert. Kol held a cup of water to her lips, and she took a couple sips and smiled at him, and then everything came back to her, and she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. "How should I feel? My own clan…" Her voice was husky and she refused to look at anyone. Havah, a half-breed, raised as a foreigner couldn't understand, no matter how well Neroon had trained her. Such ways could only be understood if they had been lived. Kol said nothing, just squeezed her hand.

Kilshinn spoke up. "It took a while for the rest of your clan to find you, but the renegades are going before a tribunal. In fact, they and Shakiri are standing before the Caste Elders now. You were missed. So many people began asking questions concerning your actions and whereabouts that the new Wind Sword leader investigated. And Alyt Rennir was relentless. After you were taken, he insisted on sending someone to see the two of you, and check on your status. When his request was denied, he appealed to the Council of Caste Elders, and to the new leader himself. He and Narsa Diri were here a short while ago, to see how you were. I presume they will return later, if possible."

She cracked a tiny smile. It was nice to know that they hadn't been abandoned. But now her clan would be shamed. Her face darkened. _We're supposed to sacrifice everything for our clan, and I have brought shame upon mine._

"Our clan is in trouble, Polenni. But that is not your fault." Kol said, watching her face carefully. "They have been in trouble for some time. Your actions only brought the problems to the surface, which had to happen sooner or later. Now, we can fix the problems instead of hiding them. That is better for our clan than avoiding shame at all costs. Do not blame yourself." He held her eyes sincerely.

Her eyes shifted past him to an odd collection of objects on a table behind him. There were a few bottles of hal 'chi, a few long flat boxes with colorful wrapping, and a strange furry monstrosity with vacant beady black eyes.

Havah followed her disbelieving gaze, and laughed. "Oh, we brought you some stuff. That's what Earthers do when someone is in the hospital. You recognize the hal'chi, that's from Kol, Ashar, and Kilshinn. The chocolates are from Felshenn, since you don't have to be on duty for a while."

"They are…fascinating. I have tried this new Human…delicacy." He said with a sly smile.

"And the teddy bear is from me. Somehow, I didn't think you'd be into flowers. See?" She brought the furry thing close for Polenni's inspection.

"Teddy bear?" She took it and squeezed it, poking at its round eyes. It was a garish mustard yellow, with a bright red tunic that didn't cover its protuberant belly. An English word was written across the front of the shirt. 'Pooh'. "What is pooh? Is that not a slang word for…excrement?"

Havah burst into laughter. "Not in this case, it's the name of a very famous bear, Winnie the Pooh. Millions of children grew up with Pooh Bear."

Polenni perused the bear, trying to hide the disdain she felt looking at the Human child's toy. It had been thoughtful of Havah, although somewhat misguided, and she didn't wish to insult her. _It is very…soft._ She rubbed the fur on her un-bandaged cheek. The feel was oddly comforting.

"The burn scar will be removed when it heals fully." Kol said quietly.

She reached up and felt the bandage, hand trembling slightly. She looked down into her lap, and said nothing.

"We do not believe you a traitor, and I will personally challenge anyone who claims that you are." Kilshinn said fiercely.

"We had better let her rest now." Felshenn interjected, and herded everyone out. 

Alyt Rennir stared at the bizarre furry thing squished under Polenni's right cheek as she rested, and turned to leave. But she stirred and opened her eyes, so he returned and waited for her to focus on him. As soon as she realized who it was, she snatched the furry object and shoved it under the covers. He suppressed his curiosity and ignored it. "Ranat Polenni, how are you?"

She cast her eyes down. "I am well…Alive, Alyt Rennir. Thank you."

He inclined his head and got straight to the point. "It is the prerogative of the commanding officer to enforce matters of discipline." His jade eyes glittered. "Your recent act of…insubordination has been stricken from your record, as it has for your friend and clan-member Kol. I do not encourage insubordination in my ranks, and it is a soldier's duty to follow orders without question. However, if I claimed not to value a warrior who stands up to an illegal order…I would be lying. And Minbari do not lie." The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. "In addition, your action ultimately, although indirectly, led to the capture of remaining factions loyal to Shakiri who might have proved very dangerous to the new government."

Polenni's eyes widened. "Thank you, Alyt Rennir!"

"Rest well, Polenni." He was gone when she glanced up again. 

'There will be other ways for you to serve.' Felshenn had said. Now that Polenni had been found, alive, Havah's mind returned once again to her homeworld. The reclaiming of Earth would be largely an Earth Force endeavor, with some help from the Anla Shok. Havah's place as the executive officer of the Anla Shok, was less useful to Sheridan and Ivanova at this point than her ties within the Earth resistance. She prepared to leave. After loading a flyer, she looked for Felshenn. He was in one of the central training gymnasiums, practicing denn bok attacks with another crew-mate. Neither man noticed her enter, engaged in fierce combat as they were, and she stood just out of view, watching Felshenn. His sinewy grace was serving him well against his stocky opponent, and both were clearly enjoying themselves, engrossed in weapon play. Despite the exertion, his face and set of his body were more relaxed than she had seen in weeks.

_He needs this, _she thought. She didn't want to interrupt them, or do anything that might shatter the calm in his eyes, and she knew that her leaving at this time, would do just that, since he seemed to have appointed himself her new mentor now that her father was gone. His loyalty to Neroon ran deeper than any Havah had seen. But there was no avoiding it. She stepped into the light of the room, and both warriors paused as they noticed her presence.

Something in her manner told Felshenn that she was here about a matter of importance. "Havah, is all well?"

"Yes. As well as it can be for now. I'm…I'm heading for Earth. I had some connections with the underground resistance there."

The other warrior wandered off to the changing room. Felshenn swallowed and the tension wiggled its way back into his shoulders. It was too soon. And the last time she had been to Earth, she had nearly been tortured to death. Those people held much greater power now. But this had been coming for some time. Argument would serve no purpose but to make her more determined.

He gazed at her evenly. "Go well then." He said nothing further.

Before she turned to leave he approached and stood directly in front of her, looking down into her face, memorizing every detail. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips as her mouth opened with surprise. Her body tremored with momentary shock, and a flood of sensuality. She kissed him back fiercely, gasped and then pulled away. Her face was a cascade of conflicting emotions.

He took a step back. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to frighten you."

She shook her head, putting her hand to her lips. "No, it's ok. I'm ok…I just…didn't expect it." She had wanted this, secretly, for months. She knew that now, and it felt just as she had hoped it would. But he was right. It had frightened her. _Why am I getting squirrelly now?…Because I want it too much, and when I want something out of a relationship, I mess it all up. I'm going to mess up this one, just like all the others, _she thought bitterly. She smiled at him and it was the smile of a starving woman in the desert, realizing that what she was seeing was not water, but a mirage. She closed the distance between them and touched his lips with trembling fingers, and then backed away and left before she could start crying. He just stood there for some time, gazing at the place where she had been, confused.

Havah stared at the shifting patterns of hyperspace. In two days, she would jump into normal space near Earth's solar system. The path to this future was unavoidable now, any path that was to lead to an acceptable future. The Rubicon was so far behind them that they couldn't see it anymore. It was time to free Earth.

13


	32. Chapter 32

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 32-Storming Geneva 

Ralph Kohn looked far more groomed, and far more nervous than the last time she had seen him. The middle-aged security guard glanced around surreptitiously. Everything had eyes and ears now. He chuckled without mirth, trying to diffuse the seriousness of the situation. "I remember when you used to bring me wings from Big Johnnies when I was stuck at the desk. Funny how we wound up like this, eh? You had me fooled in those days! Now…now everything's changed. Who knew I'd wind up goin' against my own men, my own boss!" His face grew dolorous. The room was brightly lit but seemed dim still. It was the official conference room of the Security Worker's Union, Local 456. It had not been bugged. Even Clark had been hesitant to take on the Local 456. They had powerful friends. And many of the Local 456 had turned to the resistance, maintaining the union's façade of enlightened self-interest. "So what about Sheridan's forces? Have you heard from Willie?"

"Willie?"

"William Byron, your Earth Force buddy."

"You call him 'Willie'?"

"Yeah, he's not like them other fancy-pants officers."

"And he answers to that? Wow. Ok, anyway, Sheridan took Proxima Three successfully. 'Willie' was on the Vespa. His ship retreated from combat and was reassigned to Mars. I don't think Clark is very happy with her crew. They'll probably have to face an inquiry, but at least they have a back door. Her captain opted not to fire on civilians, but also not to join up with Sheridan. While that's not really Byron's preference, at least it keeps him on the 'in' with Clark for a little while longer, or at least not on his black list. As for Sheridan, they're on their way. These are the ships that have signed up with him so far." She showed him a list of allies.

"Geez. There's a lot of 'em."

"Yeah, most of Earth Force is quite unhappy with Clark. I think even more would ditch him if it weren't for Clark's propaganda. I can only imagine what they've been saying now."

"I can tell you. They're saying that Sheridan kills the crews that surrender, and replaces them with Minbari."

"WHAT? You're joking! And people believe that?"

"Yeah, a lot of people here on Earth. Look at his new girlfriend. That's making people nervous. They think he's…well…they think he's whipped."

"By Delenn?"

"Yeah. You know how it's been around here with aliens. No one trusts 'em."

Havah covered a burst of caustic laughter. "Well…Delenn is a character, but I wouldn't say that anyone could make Sheridan do ANYTHING he didn't want to do. How can those people see what Clark is doing and assume that Sheridan needs an excuse to fight this war?"

Ralph shook his head. "I don't know. But that's why we're here." He grinned. "So when will they be here?"

"If all goes as planned, they should be here inside two weeks. They're following the same course the Minbari took during the war. It's logical. Here are the details on the fights, so far." She handed him data crystals. "Steven Franklin is getting in touch with the Mars resistance. He should've made contact by now. Have you been able to coordinate with the Mars Resistance?"

"No. You know how they are. Marsies don't trust anyone from Earth, not even us, and we're fighting for the same thing. But they don't want help from us."

"Hmm. That's funny, because Steven said that one of their chief complaints was that no one ever offers to help them. Well, we have enough to do, we'll let Steven handle this. Have you talked to Morgan? What's his plan? I have some ideas, if he wants to hear them."

"Great! He wants to meet with you in half an hour."

"Right on."

"There's something else."

Havah just waited.

"Night Watch and Clark's men aren't our only problems. Our operatives have been catching some other noise…The mega corps are also unhappy with Clark, but they have their own agenda for removing him, and it looks as though they're going to oppose Sheridan too. He's moving too fast for them. Civil war can hurt their business interests, and they'll never allow that. I think they're getting ready to try taking him out."

"How?"

"I don't know, but I do know that Edgars Industries is involved in something, and it's Edgar's men that have been running the most blocks on the resistance. Word is that they're working on something big."

"They're a huge supplier to the Bioweapons Division in Earth Force. What kind of something?"

He shook his head ruefully. "I don't know. That's all we got. Their security is tighter than a nun's-"

"Ok."

"You know somebody that works for them now though. We were hoping you might know more."

"Who?"

"Michael Garibaldi."

"Really!" She sat pensively. "That's a little weird…" She lapsed into thought. Everyone had talked about how different Garibaldi was after he was found, especially after he resigned his post and fell out with Sheridan. But Havah didn't see why everyone was so surprised. He'd been unhappy for a long time. Then he was captured, possibly by the Shadows, and no one except G'Kar went to look for him, a Narn who he didn't even like two years ago. And when he got back, his arrival coincided with Sheridan's return, so no one even blinked at Garibaldi except a few of his own men. The first thing he encountered was suspicion about his being altered by the Shadows, while people kowtowed to Sheridan, who had been to the Shadows' homeworld. Havah could understand why people reacted to Sheridan, and to Garibaldi as they did, and she was sure that Garibaldi understood too. But it also didn't take a rocket scientist to see how things must look from Garibaldi's point of view, after years in the shadow of everyone else, constantly trying to run down a spotted past that he never really deserved. So it wasn't surprising that he wanted out for a while, now that the war they had all been waiting for was over. There had always been somewhat of a personality clash between him and Sheridan, if only because Sheridan was not Sinclair. Working with a friend who had hand-picked him for the position was a different story than what his relationship became with Sheridan. But this…was odd. Garibaldi hated mega corps. Why did he go to work for one?

Before she could ponder the question any further, an Anla Shok was shown to the room where Havah and Ralph waited for the head of Earth resistance.

"Anlashok Na!" The man looked extremely agitated, especially for an Anla Shok.

She was on her feet as soon as she saw him. "Yes, what's happened?"

"It's David Sheridan! He's been taken!"

"By whom?"

"We don't know for sure."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"We were not able to identify who they worked for."

"How did they find him?"

He glanced at Ralph.

Ralph got up hastily and took a walk.

"I think it was the tenastasin, ma'am."

"What? How the hell did they know to look for that? We've been able to supply him for months! No one else knew about that, not even the Centauri pharmacists! No one except the Rangers…and…and Garibaldi. SHIT!"

Ten years previously, John Sheridan's father, former Earth ambassador David Sheridan had been diagnosed with a new variant of ADP, an extremely rare form of porphyria. It was an autosomal recessive disorder, triggered possibly, by a drug he had been taking for arthritis. The only drug prescribed for this form of porphyria anymore, due to its overwhelming success rate in treating the disease where all human compounds had resulted in only marginal success, was tenastasin, produced only by the Centauri. Since he had been ushered into hiding, they couldn't go through normal channels to get it. So one of the Anla Shok, formerly a physician's assistant, had been writing the prescriptions and acquiring it. They rotated suppliers, and Garibaldi knew which ones they used.

"It was probably Edgar's men." Havah said despondently.

"Edgars?"

"Edgars Industries. Garibaldi's working for them now. He's the only other person who knew about the tenastasin, unless you can think of another Anla Shok who might've ratted us out. I can't."

"Neither can I."

"We need to get him back. As long as he's in someone else's hands, he's a liability to Sheridan. Whoever's got him can use his dad against him."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want all the information we can get on Edgars Industries, on all of the people who work for William Edgars, every possible location of their offices or supply centers, a list of everyone they've done business with in the past three months. Everything you can find. We'll start there. When you have that, let me know. Take this information to Sheridan. Let him know that we're working on it already, or he's just crazy enough to try looking for him."

"Yes, ma'am!" He turned on his heel and left. Havah was sitting at the table, her head in her hands, when Ralph entered with a tall sandy-haired man. 

Felshenn went about taking care of the rest of Neroon's affairs numbly. Havah filled his thoughts. One moment of open expression, and he had scared her away. _How could I have been so stupid! She's half-Human! Have you looked at yourself lately? You're not! And she's now a ranat, a far lower rank in our military. Of course she was intimidated! I should not be having such thoughts to begin with! And to what end? It is unlikely she will return from this mission. It has been unlikely all of the other times she has gone, and she has always returned, but sooner or later, her luck will run out._ He had never been particularly suave with females, even of his own kind. Havah's observation of his arrogance had not been unique, and he always found himself tied for words. The handicap always annoyed him, and so he mainly had engaged in experiences with female friends, with whom there was little interest of long-term bonding. Safe encounters. And then came this alien woman, supremely irritating, disorganized, and wild, disrupting his entire life. And although the risk to his honor was minimal, since she was at least a half-blood, many among his caste had already expressed disapproval of his increasingly obvious regard for her.

_If Neroon was willing to face castigation, then so should I. At the least, she is a friend. _But he wanted more. If she returned to Minbar, how was he going to prevent himself from repeating the same faux pas? There was a peculiar Human phrase he'd heard for such missteps, 'sticking one's foot in the mouth.' What an odd physical image. Humans had a colorful way of describing the world…Havah had many Human companions. Perhaps they would be able to provide him with some insight on how to approach someone raised with Human patterns of courtship. 

Anlashok Jerry Gallagher watched the tall officer approach them with no small amount of curiosity. Elena, his partner, and fellow Ranger, listened, attentively.

The stiff Minbari began, bowing slightly. "I have a question that I believe can only be answered by a Human. May we speak?"

Jerry gestured to a seat, flipping his long blonde hair. Perpetually joking, Jerry was in an even more puckish mood than normal. The thought of pushing this extraordinarily stodgy Minbari's buttons was almost irresistible. "Shoot…I mean ask!" He burst into raucous giggles and slapped the table.

Elena rolled her eyes, and Felshenn just stared at him before continuing, realizing that Humans were far more alien than he had thought. He paused over how to ask what he wanted without sounding…insecure. "You are male. And you are female." He nodded to each of them. "How do Human males and Human females…What are the proper rituals to ask a Human female…What protocols must a Human male follow if he wants…"

Jerry snorted laughter through his nose and cackled like a hyena, holding his stomach. Elena recovered quickly from a snicker, and slapped Jerry on the shoulder. "Shut up, retard! What are you, a kindergartner?" She turned to Felshenn. "Ignore him! For starters, don't act like an immature dope!" She cast a glare at Jerry. "Just be nice, be thoughtful. You're talking about Havah?"

He nodded curtly.

"Well, there aren't really any specific rituals until you plan to marry a woman, and not everyone follows those anyway. There are all kinds of things Humans do, and it all depends on the woman you're talking about, the culture she's from, and how closely she is attached to her culture. Some women like more formality. Others couldn't care less. Havah is Jewish, but she's not that religious. She doesn't really go in for Jewish men or all of the formality. Just be nice to her, and let her know you like her. She's not that observant when it comes to noticing when someone likes her. Subtle hints don't work. Just be straight with her about it."

"I…am afraid that is exactly what I did, and I frightened her away."

"What did you do?"

"I kissed her."

"Did she kiss you back?"

"…Yes. That is why I am confused. Perhaps I have offended her by omitting some part of a ritual or custom."

"No. She's just broken. OW!" Jerry piped in. This had elicited an instant kick from Elena, under the table, as she gestured her eyes towards the perplexed Minbari.

"She's not broken! You're broken! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"What? I didn't mean…I—"

She made a noise of disgust at Jerry, and turned back to Felshenn. "Look. If she kissed you back, she probably does like you. I've seen the way she looks at you. I don't think you have to worry about that. She's just dodgy about relationships. She's been in some bad ones, and she's wary now. Just give her time to warm up to you."

"That's what I meant!" Jerry protested.

Felshenn bristled slightly. "What do you mean that she's been in 'bad ones'? Was she harmed?"

"Settle down, Galahad…" Jerry snickered. "She can take care of herself. She just didn't pick 'em real well."

"I do not understand."

"She went out with assholes. One dude broke up with her as soon as he found out she was half-Minbari. I'm guessing that won't be an issue with you." He laughed, white teeth flashing.

"Why would she choose such people?"

"Ah, don't know. Low self-esteem. A lot of women go with losers because they don't think they can get anyone else. I don't know why she thought that. She's got a cute little—OW!" He started laughing hysterically, shielding himself from Elena's blows. "But not as cute as yours, honey! Oh come on, you know I'm just kidding!" He turned to Felshenn again. "See, that's how I keep Elena! Give me a kiss, baby!" He climbed over the bench, pawing at her, trying to lick her face with his entire tongue.

"Ewww! Get away from me, you maniac!" Elena pushed his face away, laughing.

He licked his finger and tried to stick it in her ear, and she grabbed it, twisted it, and brought him to his knees on the ground, still laughing riotously. "By the way, don't take Jerry as an example of how to court a Human woman. He's an idiot!"

This just brought another gale of snorts from Jerry, still on the ground. "But baby…!"

Felshenn rose quickly, uncomfortable and utterly confused by the display. "Yes, well, thank you for your advice. I must attend to other matters." He strode off.

"See what you did, moron?" Elena cuffed Jerry on the head. "Get up! Now that you've completely scared him off! Are you trying to piss off the warrior caste again?"

Jerry giggled. "Oh come on, aren't you being a little over-dramatic? He's gotta lighten up a little, pull the pike out of his ass!" 

Humans were impossible to comprehend. How could he have thought to seek any understanding about them? There was no logic! He was no closer to an answer than when he had begun researching their rituals. Everything he had read indicated that many Human cultures were patriarchal, but all behavior he had seen indicated that females were dominant. And while Jerry had been rebuked by his partner, she appeared to enjoy his ridiculous behavior. _It is a society that cannot decide what it wants!_ He sighed heavily. There was no solution to the mystery but to wait for Havah's return. 

In order to get to the Nightwatch, Earth resistance had to take out the Blood Hound units, or the resistance would be uprooted quickly. The Blood Hounds were out in the open now. Psi Corps wasn't even pretending to be neutral anymore. Clark had them in his pocket. Or so he thought. Havah was beginning to suspect it was the other way around. And to top it off, Sheridan had gone in after his father, and been captured. That had been a week ago. _Oh well, at least, he's holding out for now._ Havah thought. _We'd have known by now if he hadn't. But he can't last much longer. I hope the Mars resistance finds him soon. _And his fleet's advance had not halted in his absence.

"How are we supposed to take out Blood Hounds? Even other teeps won't come near them!" Sullivan, a short swarthy resistance fighter chimed from the back of the room, fiddling with his spare clip. They were assembled to finish plans for the first set of strikes on Geneva. The restlessness and anger were palpable in the room.

"Fight fire with fire. What have we been doing, keeping in touch with the rogue telepath networks if we're not going to use 'em. The telepaths don't like the Psi Corp's control any more than we do. It serves their purpose to help us now." Even Morgan, the ebullient leader of the resistance was edgy.

"And what about later?" Sullivan's tone blared, and his eyes smoldered. "They already look at the rest of us like we're insects, so we're just going to hand them the whole damn operation? Fuck that! I don't want 'em anywhere near me!"

"They won't be near you, they'll be near the Blood Hounds, so we don't have to be, get it?" A pale blonde woman, Kyra, spoke next to him.

"So, we're just supposed to assume that these teeps will keep an alliance with us? They still have more in common with those mind-shredders than they do with us. No way!"

Morgan sighed. "Well, unless you've acquired telepathic abilities the rest of us don't know about, we need help with the Blood Hounds, and if you don't have a better idea-"

"Wait a minute!" Havah thought back to her brief confrontation with them. She had eluded them for a short period by staying out of their line of sight. She sighed. It wasn't much of an advantage, but if they weren't going to use telepaths, then this was the only headstart they would get. "I fought a unit of Blood Hounds a while back. They completely clobbered me, but for a little while, I was able to stall them by distraction, and keeping out of their line of sight. The telepaths always have to have a line of sight to use their telepathy effectively, even the Hounds. Sure they can sense things, but not really well, if their energy is unfocused. We need to blind them!" 

Havah crouched, waiting for the operation to start. This had to work. Sheridan had been rescued and was now steaming toward Mars at the helm of the Agamemnon, like Poseidon on the crest of an angry inexorable tidal wave of alien, Earth, and Anla Shok ships. In truly Russian Gothic style, Ivanova had obliterated the test arm of the new hybrid Shadow-Earth destroyers waiting to ambush the rebel fleet. _So that was what IPX was really doing with a Shadow ship, _Havah remembered when she heard the news. Ivanova was as good as dead now, with multiple neck and skull fractures, but the way was clear until the fleet reached Mars…in less than a day. The Earth Force, and the Night Watch efforts would be diverted. Now was the best time to secure Earth on the ground. Acquisition of this shuttleport would cause an additional and immediate distraction for teams moving against the local Night Watch posts. It would be an easy matter to slip in and take out the Night Watch posted on lookout above the main atrium. From the balcony, they would get a clear shot of the Blood Hound Unit. The trouble was the Blood Hounds' range. They would know something was wrong, they would sense it. So the operation had to move quickly, once it started. Now, all there was to do was wait until the Blood Hounds, and the Night Watch picked their next victim. They didn't have to wait long. While the Blood Hounds might not fully scan someone in public, they could certainly terrorize without it. Havah didn't know who this hapless woman was, or what she'd done to attract their attention, but they had decided that she was a potential terrorist, and the Blood Hounds had her pinned, choking and sobbing against a wall.

Havah fought a wave of antipathy and nausea, as the memory of imaginary spiders and maggots writhed through her muscles, and pain knotted her nerves. "Now."

The Night Watch guards on the balcony were overwhelmed quickly by resistance fighters, and Havah's group, below, slipped in quickly and silently, neutralizing the guards closest to the core group of Night Watch and Blood Hounds, and rolled out the flash grenades. Just as the Blood Hounds sensed the disturbance, the grenades went off, temporarily blinding everyone caught off guard, but the resistance. Havah closed her eyes seeing the flash even through closed eyelids and shielded goggles. She opened her eyes and took aim with the other snipers, at the stumbling array of Night Watch and Blood Hounds, clutching at their eyes. Powerful psi-scans rolled over the snipers in waves, so powerful that even the psychically-dead snipers could feel the mental fingers raking their minds. Havah choked down a sudden impulse to retch, in order to shoot. Needling fear gripped her. They were everywhere, all around her, moving in on her. If she turned around she would see them…She fought the surge of terror that washed through her, as she realized there was no one behind her. It was a trick, broadcast indiscriminately by the Blood Hounds until they could regain control. The other snipers were similarly affected. Some gripped their stomachs, others froze in the peak of the psi-wave. "NOW! FIRE NOW! BEFORE IT"S TOO LATE! IGNORE THE IMAGES! FIRE!" Havah screamed. The fear abruptly released them as the Blood Hounds fell to the shots.

"Canine Control to the Dog Pound. The dogs have been put to sleep. Do you copy?" Sullivan's scratchy voice came through, anchoring Havah to the rest of the shuttle port.

"Dog Pound here. We read you. They're down here too. Finish it. Out."

More reports came in from the other areas of the port. For a little while, the area was now theirs.

_I just killed a Human. _Havah thought abstractedly as she stared at the fallen Blood Hound, unmoving beneath her muzzle, a force that had terrorized her thoughts since that day, a year ago, in the hangar. A Night Watch guard stirred from stupor and one of the team went and slammed him on the back of the head with his pistol butt. The Night Watch had been left alive, but unconscious and wounded. The Blood Hounds had been killed, as quickly as possible. They were too dangerous to risk re-awakening.

"Citizens of Earth! We are not traitors, we are fellow citizens!" Morgan began, standing above, at the balcony. He was taking a huge chance, but there was no better time to appeal to the average frightened Joe. Whether people agreed with the Night Watch or not, the use of the Blood Hounds had been too much. Havah had seen the look of horror in people's eyes as they passed the gates as quickly as they could, averting their gaze, whenever an unfortunate traveler attracted attention. They had lost all control over their world, and they knew it. Now was their chance to take it back, at least for a little while. They needed hope.

He continued. "How long are you willing to live like this? How long are you willing to sell your freedom of mind and thought for 'safety' that doesn't exist from 'anti-Earth sentiment' that doesn't exist, except for the policies that the Night Watch themselves have created? It is those policies that are anti-Earth! This tyranny erases everything about us that makes us Human, our right to think and believe and explore whatever the hell we want! And how long are you willing to sell your lives and your health? This is what happens to those who are forced into a deep scan!" A holo-recording filled the air in front of the atrium. In it, a man lay in a bed, neck penetrated by a feeding tube. No words issued from his paralyzed mouth, but his eyes were animated, trapped in a flesh prison. Havah heard audible gasps from people, rubbing their eyes, sight returning, and picking themselves off the ground. The recording ended. "This man, a salesman from Barcelona, was just going home to his family after a trip to the Brakiri sector. He was stopped because he was reading a Brakiri philosophy book. They found a nail scissors in his bag, and claimed he was a terrorist. The Blood Hounds forced a deep scan on him, and as a result he is now paralyzed for life! He is not the first and will not be the last, if this is allowed to continue! There are many, many others. None of these people were terrorists, or even connected with the resistance. I know because I am part of the resistance! These were complete innocents! And if any of you think that you are somehow exempt, you are very, very wrong! Is this what you wish to face every time you walk through these doors?" Utter silence reigned for a few moments, and then, a radio. "Canine Control to Dog Pound. They're coming!"

They waited until the additional units of Blood Hounds and Night Watch were inside and then set off the flash bombs again, trying to preserve as much of the vital ammunition as possible. Who knew how long they'd have to last. The rebels fought through the now-familiar waves of psi-protection and the new Blood Hound units began to fall as the first ones had. But as one of the Hounds fell in front of Havah's gun, an additional unit poured from the door, having shielded themselves from Havah's team by broadcasting a general feeling of security. The lookouts had been distracted. One of the team rolled down a bomb, attracting one of the telepath's attentions.

The rebel sentry screamed and covered his face, dropping his gun, as blood vessels in his eyes and brain erupted, streaming wet red streaks down his face from under his hands. He convulsed and lay still just before the bomb flashed and the team, mobilized by horror, fired almost as soon as the flash subsided. Night Watch and Hounds lay scattered, and civilian passengers ran here and there, or huddled in corners, clutching at their families and belongings.

The radio piped in. "Orkin Man to Dog Pound. We've reached Pest Central, the nests have been sterilized for now. We've intercepted the coordinates for the old ambassador. They're right near the Dog Pound, in the old government complex, sublevel A, the records warehouse. They don't know that we control the hive yet. Do you copy?"

"Dog Pound. We got it, and we're on our way. Dog Pound out." 

The last thing Dylan Lancaster saw was the butt of his ex-girlfriend's gun as she appeared from behind a corner and slammed him in the face, as Kyra took out the other patrolman, a woman. _Hey!_ He thought as he blacked out, _Isn't that Havah? What did I do this time?_

_He went down way too easy, _Havah thought disappointedly. The two women quickly stripped the personnel and donned the uniforms, Havah's pant legs scuffing the ground, and the arms sliding down over her hands. "Why couldn't they have sent someone my size?" She chuffed irritated, as she pulled at the sleeves and pant cuffs.

Kyra giggled. "Come on, it's only for a few minutes anyway, they won't notice until it's too late. Come on, 'Gimli'!"

"Oh, shut up, Barbie!" She shot back at the tall shapely blonde. "Why don't you swap with me! These MANLY clothes'll fit you better anyway, ya goddam Ent!"

Kyra muffled a snort as she disrobed again and swapped.

"Besides, I hate the smell of him!" Havah added, thumbing towards the fallen man.

"So you're giving me the stinky clothes, thanks! Ready?"

"Yeah,…wait!" Havah stalked over and slammed him in the head again. "Ok. Just wanted to make sure he stays asleep."

Kyra smiled. "Let me guess…someone you know?"

"Ex-boyfriend…Maybe just one more for good measure, just in case-" She aimed a kick at his groin, but Kyra laughed and pulled her away, down the hall.

"I think he's down! Besides if you kick him there, he might wake up again!"

"Good point!"

The guards paused for a fraction too long, as they realized that the two women wearing the uniforms were unfamiliar, and then they woke a few hours later, locked in a dark room.

David Sheridan looked up from where he'd been sitting against a wall of the empty cement room, with a patient smile, as if he had just been waiting for help berry-picking on his new farm instead of waiting to be released from illegal governmental kidnapping and incarceration. He nodded his head. "I knew someone'd come sooner or later. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too, sir." Havah bowed.

"Oh, I'm just a farmer now, no need for all that." He waved his hand.

She smiled. "Sir, if you'll come with us, we'll get out of here."

Kyra nodded. The coast was clear for now. And if anyone tried to radio in to Night Watch HQ for reinforcements, none would come. The Orkin Man would answer. Night Watch was cut off.

They hurried through passages lined with musty files. Kyra coughed. "I thought we were supposed to be a paperless society? Pure crystal technology, so why the hell do they keep these crusty old things around! And then she paused, glancing back uncertainly. "I mean, I don't mean anything against age or anything…I mean-"

The old farmer's eyes twinkled. "It's alright, young lady, I understand what you mean. Well, we're pack rats. Every time I throw something out, I find that all of the sudden, I need it for something again…" His face grew serious. "So have you heard from my son? I figured that he must have escaped because they moved me, and they've been acting pretty scared."

Havah helped him through the maintenance passage, a back way out. "He's on his way, on the Agamemnon. They should be here in a little while."

They waited for the patrols to pass, and then slipped by. 

"So…" Mr. Sheridan asked, cupping a mug of coffee at the Local 456. He had been advised to stay there until Clark's forces had been decisively defeated. "I never got much of a chance to thank you for helping me with my medication and all, and for coming to get me!"

"You're welcome, sir." Havah smiled.

"Now what did I tell you about that."

"Yes, sir! I mean…Mr. Sheridan."

"David is fine. So what are you going to do now?"

"Well, I'm going to help Sheridan…I mean the other Sheridan…take care of the forces on the ground."

"Oh. Well, I should let you take care of your business then. Are you alright?"

Havah paused. Her face must have betrayed her ambivalence. "Yes, sir. I was just thinking. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad this all worked out." _I'm glad I could help keep somebody's dad alive, even if it wasn't mine._ "I just…my dad died recently, so I was just thinking about it." She didn't know why she was telling him that. He had a comfortable face. _I guess that's why he was an ambassador,_ she thought.

"I'm sorry to hear that. And your mother? Is she still alive?"

"Not exactly. Well, I have foster parents in Connecticut. They're ok still." As far as she knew. Mom was really good at keeping her ear to the ground. But Havah hadn't talked to them recently. A sliver of uneasiness razored into her stomach. "I guess I'll go see them after all this is over. If everything goes ok."

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see you." He put his hand on her arm and squeezed reassuringly.

The rebel attacks had focused on four theaters: Asia, North America, Europe, and Africa. The bulk of the military had been drawn away from Earth to Mars, where Sheridan's forces were attacking. If the rebel fleet survived, most of their problems would come from the planetary defense system. It would be optimal to gain control of the system. Havah waited at the muster point a mile from the Kaiser-Slautern Military Complex. Flash bombs wouldn't work for the military bases, only for civilians. The team gathered, and donned the black-light camouflage, procured from Earth Force Intelligence by a double-agent. The seven operatives rushed over the remaining terrain, unseen even by the twinkling stars, air flowing over them like deep-sea water over a gulper-eel.

The MPs never saw or heard the team, only felt the hiss of the injections, and the lull of the sedatives taking effect. Two dragged the prone soldiers to the stockade there, cuffed them, and activated the electrostatic barrier, as the rest secured the remainder of the base, and brought their captives to lock-up. Earth Force had been unaware that the technology had found its way into the hands of the rebels.

Cal, the chief engineer burned through panels and his hands flew as he reprogrammed the defense system controls on the European seaboard. Communications hissed in on the radio, a different frequency than the military channels. _No sense alerting the rest of the forces yet. That'll come soon enough. Sheridan's almost to Earth, we only need to hold it a couple of hours!_ A tinny voice came through. "Star Wars Two to Star Wars One, the base is secure…" The other two bases hissed in soon afterwards, verifying success. Havah suspected their coup would be a very short one. Heavy teams would be called in immediately, as soon as the soldiers failed to report in. _Just a couple of hours we need!_ And then they waited. Nervously pacing through the control room, Havah and Cal jumped every time the radio hissed, expecting the lookouts to disappear in a re-capture of the base that might happen before any of them knew it was here. If the black-light camo worked so well for the rebels, who hadn't had much experience in using it… 

General Voorhees ended the transmission and spoke. "The defense platform bases have been compromised! Four of them: KMC, Guandong, Colorado Springs, and Addis Ababa! We're twenty miles from KMC! Major Heidell, I want you to take five teams to re-secure that base from the hostiles!"

The doors closed and locked with a click, as the general turned into the muzzles of five PPGs.

"I'm going to have to disobey that order, sir!" Major Heidell said quietly, glancing at the rest of his team. 

Cal fidgeted. They both fidgeted in the silence, waiting. He stammered, trying to make conversation. "So…you have a boyfriend?"

Havah edgily glanced at the controls. "Sort of."

"Oh…" He blew air through his lips, making clicking noises with his tongue, and then stared off into empty air. Silence fell on the room again, like dead weight. And then he spoke again. "So where's he from?"

Havah looked at him. "Not from here."

"Oh…" he clicked again. "So is he a Marsie or something?"

"Or something."

He just kept clicking and making strange duck noises through his cheeks, a very annoying nervous habit. "So one of the guys said that you liked aliens. Is that your boyfriend? I was just kind of curious, you know. Do they have the same parts as us? I mean, are they built the same?"

Havah stared at him, unsure whether to be astonished and disgusted, or astonished and amused. _Engineers!_ "I have no idea."

"Oh…So you haven't-"

"No. And I'm not talking about it-"

The instrumentation lit up. Multiple ships were approaching through the jump gate, and jump points started opening all over the perimeter of Earth. Havah fought a surge of panic, remembering the last time so many jump points had opened right on top of Earth. Havah and Cal scanned them, the signals were numerous and varied. It was Sheridan's fleet. His ruddy face appeared on the green channel a moment later. "Sheridan to President Clark!…"

But almost as soon as he finished delivering the order to surrender, the controls began going haywire. Havah frantically began flipping and punching at the controls. "What's going on? Why isn't the platform responding to the programming? Hey!" She yelled, as Cal leapt for the panels.

He fiddled, pulled at wires, entered code as fast as he could, but nothing worked. He shook his head. "Oh hell, HELL! I should have thought of this! They're being over-ridden remotely!"

"By whom, where?"

"I don't know, give me a minute!" His hands gave commands faster than Havah could keep track. "I think it's coming from the White House! From Clark's office! That sneaky piece of shit! He had a program built in, an override program, answerable to only one code, his. Just in case something like this happened, or in case one of his own people turned on him! None of the military would have detected it. He's had control this entire time!" Cal punched a panel. It continued its program as though he was not even there. "Damn!"

"What if we blow up the station, destroy the controls altogether?" She asked desperately.

"It doesn't matter." His eyes were white-rimmed. "These controls are now just mirrors for programming that is functioning elsewhere, from Clark's office. The satellites aren't being controlled from here at all anymore."

"Is there any way to get control back?"

"No. Not from here."

"Where are they being controlled from?"

"I said, Clark's office."

"There's no time! Jesus, he's not aiming them at Sheridan either! He's aiming them at Earth!" They watched helplessly, breath hitching with dread, as the massive guns targeted the planet's surface. They stared at the controls, knowing it would be the last thing they ever saw. Moments passed, into several minutes. 

Explosions wracked the sky above Earth, as ships from Sheridan's fleet crashed into the defense grid, sacrificing entire crews to stop the final automated assault on Earth. In minutes, the grid was gone. Mechanical debris flamed to Earth in bits. The Human pieces never made it. Some floated off into space, frozen. 

The controls went dead. The fleet had destroyed the platforms altogether. Havah spoke into the radio. "Everyone out! There's nothing more to do here, the defense system is dead, and the military is going to come looking for their station soon." It was over. 

"Hi, Mom." Havah stood awkwardly in the door. "Are you guys ok? Things have been kind of rough here."

Rebecca Goldman almost fell over backwards at the sight of her prodigal daughter, standing there looking so sheepish. "Of course we're alright! I told you things would blow over! But OH, am I glad to see you! It's you I've been worried about! I've been keeping track of Minbari events, since you told me that you'd gone back, and then nothing!" She pulled Havah into a hug and held her tightly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Mom. I know I keep doing that to you…" Havah said, voice muffled by Mrs. Goldman's chest.

Mrs. Goldman held Havah at arm's length and said quietly. "Now that the government is back in the hands of the Senate, why don't you tell me what's really been going on." She pulled Havah into the house, went immediately to the refrigerator and began taking out noodle kugel, sardines in tomato sauce, herring in sour cream sauce, and cold cuts, and cutting bagels. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat, but you don't have to do all that."

"Nonsense, I'm your mother! You're never home! When do I ever get to feed you?"

Havah laughed. _It's good to see some things never change._ "Alright, fine….Mom, when you're done futzing…there are some things I need to tell you. A lot of things, about what I've been doing, about my biological dad, and I just wanted to say…I just wanted to say I'm really glad you're ok. I missed you and dad…and Tovah."

Mrs. Goldman stopped, her shoulders relaxed and she stood up and turned around from stooping to take a place mat from a drawer. "I'm glad." She smiled wearily. "Sometimes I'm afraid to call you and ask how you are because I don't want to bother you. But I don't stop worrying. And I know you were doing more than you could tell anyone. You used to get so annoyed when I called in the past."

Havah hung her head. "I know, but it's not a bother. That was a long time ago. And I'm not angry at you, not anymore."

"Then why are you so angry, Havah? What are you angry about?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. It's just there sometimes, like a rolled up ball of electricity that goes through all of my nerves. I think it's been there a while."

"I know it has. I always thought it was at me."

"Only because you were the only one who could respond to it. I'm sorry."

"I just hate to see what it does to you."

"So do I."

Mrs. Goldman paused and then left the room. Havah could hear her opening drawers in the bedroom upstairs. She returned a minute later with a faded picture. It was a picture of Havah at about four years old, and Grandma Julia, sitting on the floor with a game of Mousetrap spread out in front of them. "Do you remember this picture?"

Havah shook her head.

"Grandma Julia did. She had it in the center of her dining room table until she died. You know how she was about her dining room, and here you were, in the middle of it, so that everyone whom she ever hosted wouldn't fail to see it, giving her an excuse to talk about you. She felt very close to you because we lived so close to her then, but even after we moved away, you were very special to her."

Havah's fingers brushed the yellowed images.

"You are a part of this family, Havah, blood or not. You need to know that. And I want you to know that you can come to us. Whether you do or not, I can't control, but you should know that we are here."

Havah looked up and grabbed her mom in a hug that nearly cracked the tiny woman's ribs. "Thanks, Ma." And then the smell of the kugel reached her nostrils. She hadn't eaten since last night.

Havah sat at the helm, in full Anla Shok dress uniform, as her White Star, and her wing thundered, in formation, into the atmosphere above the capitol. Clark was dead. In true Hitler fashion, he'd taken his own life after trying to salt the Earth Alliance he couldn't control, rather than face his crimes, when the Senate stormed and retook their own usurped buildings.

But all emotion had fled, as though she had blown a fuse, as she stared impassively at the screen on which Delenn gave her proposal to Congress, highlighting the use of the White Star fleet for Earth's defense, for the defense of all worlds willing to join the Alliance Delenn was now proposing. The sight of Earth's skies had meant so much to Havah, that Felshenn hadn't been able to keep her on Minbar. But now, all she could think about, was leaving Earth's atmosphere and going back to Minbar and its fractured crystal cities. She shook herself out of rumination, and waited for Delenn's presentation to be over.


	33. Chapter 33

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 33—Looking Through the Door

They stared at one another cautiously, relief and apprehension mixing across their faces.

Felshenn spoke first. "Havah, I am glad to see you well. I am also glad that your Earth has been freed. This new Alliance should prove…interesting."

She smiled, and the awkwardness between them faded a little. "Yeah. So I wonder what the next crisis will be."

"Perhaps none this time. We all need time to regroup, I think. Did you see your family? Why did you not take some time to visit? You have not seen your home-world for some time, now that the threat has been removed." He approached, but kept his hands at his sides, wanting to stroke the lines that had deepened around her eyes. She looked so worn.

They turned and began walking towards the lake. The sound of the trickling fall was peaceful. As they neared the water's edge, Felshenn paused, gathering his courage, stuck his finger in his mouth, and poked it into her ear.

She gasped and leaped aside, glaring at him, astonished. "What the hell are you doing?"

He was mortified. Obviously, the attempt at play he had witnessed earlier, had again not been the proper action. "I…I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you, Anlashok Na Lassee of the family of Callier." He stammered, manner becoming stiff and formal. "I have been attempting to learn Human…friendship rituals, and I believe that I may have misinterpreted our—"

She stood gaping at him and collapsed into hysterical laughter. "You haven't misinterpreted anything. I just didn't…expect it, is all. I'm going to guess that you were hanging out with Jerry. He's the only one who does that. It's called a 'wet willie', when you stick your finger in someone's ear, just in case you wanted to know." She snorted, trying to quell her laughter. He looked crestfallen.

"I…do not understand. You did not seem to find it pleasurable, so what is the purpose of such a ritual?" _At least she is laughing. _

"Jerry does it to irritate people."

"Why would anyone wish such a thing?"

"Well, Jerry's a clown. He does it to get attention."

"I see." Felshenn frowned, thoroughly baffled. "How did this individual pass Anla Shok training?"

Havah grinned, and shot him a disapproving look. "Well, actually, he scored top marks in Delight class. In Terror…not so much. No one can enjoy themselves like Jerry. We were suite-mates all throughout college. Elena and him shared a room, and my roommate and I shared the suite with them, the main living area. He's always been that way, irrepressible. You are right, though, that he drove the instructors insane, all of them. Elena too. He almost lost her before they even started going out, when he showed up six hours late to their first date.—I'm not making that up. But she forgave him then, and the million other times he made her late for engagements. He's gotten a bit better since then. And he is a superb fighter, despite his demeanor. In fact, when he was stationed in the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, he was able to gain more information than any of the other operatives. No matter how much he irritates you, after a while, you have to start laughing. There's no trace of pretention about him, so people feel comfortable around him, and as a result they talk to him more. He's approachable. At first we worried that he wouldn't be able to brook the differences between Humans and the different alien races in the League, but that proved to not be a problem at all. Even if they didn't get his humor, they all seemed to get along with him. It didn't hurt that he is an incorrigible flirt. So he got a lot of information from women."

Felshenn's frown deepened. "Yes, I noticed this. He made a remark about your…anatomy. His mate was not pleased with him."

She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Does that bother you?"

"…Yes. I suppose it does." His hands twitched as he looked down at the water.

"Why?"

"It is not appropriate for him to be making such comments, especially in front of his mate."

She gazed at him steadily. "Don't worry, I think Elena would stick bamboo shoots under any woman's fingernails who tried to lure him away, and you don't want to know what she'd do to him."

"That is not the issue. It is just…not appropriate."

"Uh-huh." She blinked, still looking at him carefully. "I…wanted to talk to you about what happened…before I left. About…"

The awkwardness was back. He remained quiet, backing up a step to maintain a polite distance.

"I reacted weird to you. I just wanted to explain. I…I really like you. Boy, the last time I came out and told a guy that first was in my History class in high school. I shoved a note in his hand and ran away. Just like I kind of ran away…after you kissed me. I'm sorry. I guess I figured that I'd just screw everything up, and I didn't want to do that, not with you. I'm notoriously bad at relationships. I didn't mean to give you mixed signals, or make you think that I didn't like you that way. I'll understand if you don't want to stick around for someone quite so…dysfunctional."

His posture relaxed, and he came over, stood in front of her, and put his hands on her arms, and then tilted her chin up to see his face. She flinched and her face flamed as he spoke softly. "I am glad to know that. I learned that your past encounters have not been ideal, and I am sorry to hear such a thing. I do not know what makes a person functional or dysfunctional, I have never heard such a term for pain before, but that does not change my feelings for you. I am a warrior. You have no need to fear that I will be chased off by anger. You are worth standing in such a fire." He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the forehead, let his fingers trail lightly down her neck, and then stepped back, resolving not to intrude upon her space again until she asked him.

Her knees were weak, and a part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him, pressing against him, but she let him go, just nodding and swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm not sure about that." At least he wasn't going anywhere for a while. Maybe. What if some bossy Moon Shield soldier caught his eye, or some woman from the Ingata? He was the captain now, after all, and a very good-looking man in an intense, wiry sort of way. _But he's not like that. I think he means it. I feel…safe with him, like he wouldn't do anything to hurt me._ She gave him a sheepish smile that spread into a grin, and then rubbed her face. "It's been a long few weeks. I'm…I've been thinking about you a lot. I missed you. But I'm glad you had such an interesting foray into Human mating practices!" She giggled. "Of all the people to ask, you had to pick Jerry!"

They sat on one of the rocks bordering the water. He exclaimed disdainfully, "I cannot believe that that Human has such a mate as…Elena! How does he keep her? She seems too sophisticated for him, and yet, she enjoys his behavior! She tried to pretend otherwise, but it was obvious!"

"Oh come on! That's exactly why he acted like that to you. You scream 'uptight' every time you open your mouth! I think you'd have a heart attack if you'd seen us all in college! He used to stick fries up his nose when we went to the diner."

He just huffed in disgust, and shook his head, smiling. "Humans!"

Polenni's recovery had proceeded swiftly. She was out on one of the combat fields training in physical fitness exercises, when Havah slipped by at the dark edge of the woods. The night wind picked up, and Polenni watched her vanishing form, curiously, and then put down the chain-dart and followed her onto the winding path. As stealthy as Polenni was, Havah heard her, and called behind her and stopped next to a brake to wait. "How're you feeling? You don't have to come with me. The path may get kind of tight."

"I know." Polenni looked at her, offended by Havah's caution. "What kind of soft book-worm do you take me for? I am not a …'cream-puff'!"

Havah spluttered a laugh. Polenni was back. They continued the trek.

"Where are you going?" Polenni asked, striding efficiently behind Havah.

"I have no idea. I just think I've seen this trail before. I feel like I know it and I wanted to see where it went."

"Perhaps you used it during your training."

"I don't think it was that. Oh well, it's a nice night for a walk."

Polenni nodded in agreement, and breathed the forest air deeply. As Havah had predicted, the trail got tighter, winding through thickets and sharp crystal outcroppings, and then ended in a sheer veined wall. Havah turned left and began edging through the gap between the wall and the brush. Polenni followed her without a pause, looking around her to get her bearings. If this crazy Human got lost, it would be up to her to find their way out of this excursion.

A half a mile along the wall, Havah paused, and began groping up and down the rock face. Her vision locked on a particular configuration of granite, as she traced down the vein onto a group of crystals. There was a slight indentation, a carving depicting a circle of nine stars. The clarity of the crystal made it impossible to see for anyone but someone who already knew it was there. As Havah's fingers brushed it, an aperture opened or rather melted into the rock face. She stood at the entrance and stepped into the gloom. Polenni crowded in behind her, intrigued now, biting her tongue on a million questions. The walls illuminated slightly, lighting a path to a downward stair, carved into the rock. Havah and Polenni both drew their guns and descended the steps slowly. The base opened out into a hangar, harboring a ship of a design Havah now recognized as one of the small Vorlon transports from her dream. "Holy crap!" She breathed softly.

Polenni just stared, and then exclaimed, "Yes, Holy crap! What is this? I thought that the Guardians were all gone now!"

"They are."

"Then what is this?"

"A leftover. But I think that it's been here a long, long time." She approached the ship, and it let her. After a moment a long mottled stalk snaked out and scanned her, and another one scanned Polenni. Blue lightning began to crackle around the Eye that was scanning Polenni, but Havah called out to it. "NO! It's alright." She didn't know if it heard her, or cared, but a moment later, the lightening subsided. The Eye finished scanning her and the stalk oozed around her, encasing her and drawing her into the ship. Polenni gasped and began to fight, as the ship began encasing her too, but Havah yelled, "Just let it! It won't harm you. I know this ship." She did.

It began singing in a low sonorous voice, and she recognized the song. It was a Song of Flight, matching the rotation of the stars they would pass. The blackness melted away from Havah and Polenni's vision as the craft powered up to move. A hatch opened in the dome, and they watched Minbar recede beneath them, the atmosphere clouded around them, and then space opened.

"Where are we going?" Polenni's question whispered across to Havah as though it were a thought rather than a voice aloud. It was a telepathic ship.

"The Kohnari Sector, I think."

"What is there?"

"You'll see."

They watched the stars for a long time.

The ship docked in a deep crevasse of a moon that appeared from the surface to be barren. Sound was lost in the vault as the ship melted away, leaving the two humanoids shivering and dazed in the dark, faces masked by breather units. After a moment, oxygen whooshed in from somewhere they couldn't see. As their eyes adjusted, a dim light revealed a door at the side of the landing pad. They entered into a long labyrinthine tunnel. Havah paused at each fork, then took one of the paths with certainty.

"I'm going to assume you know where you are going." Polenni said dryly.

"Yup." She continued, until they came to a door, marked with a circle of nine stars. Havah touched it and it opened, onto a grotto that had once been green. It was full of the musty odor of dead vegetation and the dust of 700 or 800 years of silence and darkness. It had been a Shangri-la, Havah thought, for the Minbari to retreat into, if the Shadows returned. But unlike the Anla Shok, the secret had not been passed on, and the shelter had not been maintained, after the last member of the first Grey Council had passed beyond the veil. She wound her way through the crackling ancient vines, padding footprints into the fine silt of the path. Around another series of labyrinthine curves was another door. It opened for her as the others had. They entered another tunnel, which led…to another door.

This was the last one. Havah knew it as she approached. It was the one that had kept opening in her dreams, into nightmare. This time, she would see what it guarded. She touched the Grey Council emblem and the door shuddered open. They stepped inside. At a sound from her voice, lights illuminated from a ceiling display. It was an arsenal. There were shelves and shelves of weapons of all kinds. Some of them, Havah had seen before, some of them Havah had never seen, projects of engineering that had never seen a battle. They never expected the shelter to remain hidden forever. They were going to fight for their home-world, but like the Humans when they had faced extinction ten years ago, they were going to send civilians away. The Minbari were going to survive somewhere else, until the Shadows came for them too. And then the Minbari would have made their last stand as a species. Polenni gasped and went to one of the shelves, gazing at the guns, not wanting to touch anything there. It was a shrine. And it could be a trap.

Havah had gone to the back, to another vaulted room still hidden in shadow. Polenni came when she saw Havah lean hard against the wall. Inside the catherdral were pieces of an instrument. There were rows of massive coils that they both recognized, and crystals, in a configuration Havah had memorized from the propulsion station aboard the Yanazha. The device controlled gravity. But this one was much more powerful than any Havah had seen aboard the ships before, meant to be towed by another ship. This one created a singularity never meant to be set off near a ship. It was meant for something bigger. It was meant for a planet, a planet-killer. The Minbari engineers at the end of the first Shadow War had created a planet-killer to use against Z'Hadum, as a last resort. Havah stopped breathing for a minute as it occurred to her what might have happened during the Earth-Minbari War if this secret had been passed on, as a dozen things occurred to her that might have happened, or not. There was just no way to know. Threading through the strands of time were within the Vorlons' powers, not hers.

"'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.'" Her voice broke as she stood, staring at the components of the doomsday machine, eyes filling.

"I have never heard this before." Polenni said quietly, "But it seems fitting."

"Nelson Mandela said it. He was a powerful political activist who helped to oppose apartheid during the 20th century."

"What is apartheid?"

"It was a political…structure, a stance that was in place to keep people of different subgroups apart, to put it very simply. It was segregation."

"I will have to look this up."

"I'm sure you will!" She smiled. "I have a feeling that he wouldn't even blink if he saw an alien. He had a way of seeing past people's differences." She thought of the Line, of the civilian ships getting ready to ferry away what would be the last remaining genetic stock of the Human race. "He also said, 'It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' I don't think I agree entirely. Yes, that is certainly true, but that's not all of it. The thing is, you can't separate the light from the darkness, can you? That's what the Vorlons and the Shadows tried to do, choose one extreme over the other, and it erased the difference between the two. We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the star," she said sadly, tears streaming down her face.

Polenni's eyes were fixed on her intensely. "Who are you? Why have you come here, to this place?"

Havah coughed and looked down. "That's not an easy question. I've been having…memories, dreams that belonged to my ancestor for years. Her name was Turanni. She lost her husband and her child to the Shadows. I saw them die. She was one of the members of the first Grey Council. I saw this place built, all of it."

"In Valen's name!" Polenni's voice took on a tone of awe. "Then it was true, what the Religious Caste said, about you. We heard rumors, but no one in the Warrior caste would believe it. But it is true. You have her soul."

"I don't think it's that simple. Maybe it's a genetic memory, or a brain pattern. The Vorlon ship was telepathic, like the Vorlons. I triggered something when it scanned me, maybe a telepathic code, one that is carried in the chromosomes, in the brain-waves. I don't know. But what I do know is that the only people to have that code, were the original members of the Grey Council. My memories brought me here."

"Why?"

A drop shone and fell from the tip of Havah's chin. "Because I made a mistake. WE…made a mistake."

"What was it?"

Havah turned to Polenni, her face bitter. "I don't know. I thought the answer to that was behind that door!" She gestured to the opening of the silent vault. "But it isn't." Her voice dropped to a whisper. She shook her head, tears dropping into the dust. "It could be any number of things! What if we had told the military about the new weapon, and it had been used against the Shadows? It might have insured that the second war was never fought! But then, we may have destroyed a race that once upon a time tried to help us! And what if the death of Dukhat would have happened the same way anyway, despite the absence of the Shadows, and the device had been used on Humans as well, obliterating two races instead of one. Or maybe, the Minbari would have had the restraint not to use it then, even without the triluminary. Now we'll never know. Maybe everything would have happened exactly as it did, except that we wouldn't have created the culture of secrecy that tore the Minbari apart." She sobbed. "We thought we were so clever when we agreed to be on the council, when we built this place, but we suck at telling the future. So we left that to the Vorlons to do for us. We let them in. We let them manipulate us because we were afraid of making that decision! So we put this thing away, in the dark where we didn't have to look at it, or think about it anymore. We ran away, from all of the possible futures that we couldn't see! It wasn't meant to be like this, the way the council turned out. Valen wasn't done. But change is so slow, slower even than the span of a Minbari's life, and we didn't try hard enough. And I didn't even stay to see the real beginning of the new world. I was so angry at the Universe for taking my daughter, that all I thought about was getting her back. I left him. I left Valen to the future."

"What will you do?"

Havah shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"You still have a decision to make. You didn't make it then, you have to make it now. What will you do about the machine?"

Havah shook her head. "You won't say anything?"

"It is not my decision. You must decide whether or not to tell them now."

"The new Grey Council—"

"I do not mean the new Council. This is not their decision either. This was created by a council a thousand years before their time. This is your time. You decide. You are the only one remaining who can."

Havah stared at the coils. "There is a difference between confidentiality and lack of trust. The Vorlons advised us to keep our secrets because they didn't trust the Minbari people to be wise enough or thoughtful enough to temper this kind of power. The entire Shadow war, both of them happened because neither of the older races wanted to let us make our own errors. I made that mistake once too, and I won't do it again. It's time the Minbari people know what is here, it is time they knew the truth, and whatever they do with that is their own, their own history. I cannot carry this anymore." She wiped her eyes.

Polenni nodded slowly, voice thick. "I think that is a good choice."

They rode back through the stars in silence for a while. Then Polenni's thought interrupted Havah's self-recrimination. "So how will you tell them?"

"I don't know. I don't think it'd be the right approach to grab a vid camera or something and just blast it across the news. 'Hey everybody, guess what?' I guess I should tell the new Grey Council first. They are the government now, after all. Ultimately, they'll need to make decisions about what happens to the device and the whole shelter."

"True. This must be done appropriately, or there will be chaos. But it was the Grey Council who hid it the first time."

"Yeah, but this one is supposed to be different, remember? I mean, the idea is to not make the same dumb mistake twice. Or, at least to learn from somebody else's."

"And, if asked, how will you convince them of that? Are you going to tell them what you told me about Turanni?"

"I don't really have any other bright ideas. I'm sure they'll either laugh their asses off, or lock me up in the Minbari version of a looney bin. What do you do about mental cases here anyway?"

"That is not important right now. In Valen's Name, how is it that you managed to stay focused for long enough to run a nation, especially with a hood over your face? Or was the light of the Triluminary shiny enough to keep your attention for small periods of time?"

"Damn, you're testy, I was just wondering. Aren't you supposed to be nice to me now?"

Havah barely had to sense the acid dripping from Polenni's next thought as it formed before she answered herself. "Just kidding! So, well, I guess I'll write out a report of this flight, petition to speak with the council, and present the report. Maybe I don't need to mention Turanni. It's not really their business anyway."

"And what will you do if they elect to hide the information again?"

"I don't think they will. Supposedly Delenn picked some real unorthodox thinkers this time. None of them are politicians, as far as I know. Do you know any of them?"

"Not personally, no. I suppose they are not typical of the selections of the past. But that power changes people."

"Maybe." Havah thought about that. What would she have been like at the end, if she had stayed? Who would she have been? "Is Delenn different than she was before?"

"I never knew her before. I do not really know her now. Only the face that she has shown to us."

"On that pessimistic note, maybe I can send the report to the Caste Elders too, as insurance. The Grey Council will be the first to know, but the sending of the reports can be timed. If the Grey Council doesn't share the information within a number of days, then the report will automatically go to the Elders anyway."

Havah could feel Polenni's sardonic smile. "Determined to cause as much uproar as possible, aren't you…No, that is a sound idea. And, I believe that it is the only way the information can be passed on properly."

"Will you come with me when I go before the Council?"

"Why?"

"You're a witness."

Polenni sighed. "Yes, alright…I have never been before the Grey Council before."

The moist sky of Minbar looked paradisical compared to the desert they had just come from, and Havah thought about the words of the report as the ship was enveloped by stone.

Havah strode up to one of the acolytes guarding the entrance to the Temple of Varenni, followed by Polenni. After their appointment, the new council had elected to hold sessions there until the time of mourning was over. "I'm here to speak with the Council."

"Then you must wait for the appointed time for public counsel, or submit a request for a private hearing."

"I did."

"I was not made aware of your coming. I'm sorry, but that is the proced—"

"A couple of weeks into the new government and already you are mired in procedure, policy, and bureaucracy?" Maybe it was the hope she'd been building up, along with Polenni, that the new council would be this miraculous perfectly oiled political machine, or maybe it was the long night of startling discoveries followed by three nights of rumination and report writing without sleep, but the stalling made her cranky. "Explain again how this is better than the previous Council? No, don't explain, I don't have another cycle to listen to your expository! GET OUT OF MY WAY! In the name of—"

Polenni just rolled her eyes and shoved him to the side, as he goggled, and grabbed Havah's wrist. "You're wasting time!" She said, more to Havah than to him.

The entire Council, currently in session, halted all argument and turned to stare at the intrusion as they entered the central chamber. Polenni gave Havah a little shove. Havah glanced back at her. Polenni said nothing, only stood at the edge of the room with a ghost of a smile.

Havah turned and walked into the center of the circle. She asked no permission. "I am Havah Lassee of the family of Callier. I am here to inform you of a secret kept by the first Grey Council until now. There is a planet in the Kohnari sector, I will show you which one, and where it is located, that was created a thousand years ago as a shelter, in the event that the Minbari home-world and its colonies did not survive the Shadow War. The flora and fauna, and recycling systems that sustained the viability of the shelter have ceased. But within the shelter is an arsenal, and one of the weapons is a graviton-wave generator powerful enough to create a singularity capable of destroying entire planets, even entire solar systems. It is a doomsday weapon. The Minbari created it at the close of the last Shadow War. The war ended before they had to use it, or perhaps before they had a chance to. A decision was made by the first council to conceal this weapon, and the secret died with them."

They removed their hoods, and openly stared at one another and at her, murmuring amongst themselves. "And how did you come to have this information, if it died with them?"

Havah gazed evenly into the eyes of the man who had asked, a priest named Zahat. "It doesn't matter how I have it. I have evidence, and I have a witness that the place and the machine are real."

"But it does matter. After the recent wars in the galaxy, where information comes from most certainly matters. How are we to know that you have not stumbled upon a leftover trap laid by the Shadows?"

"It is all of Minbari design."

"And how did you find it?"

"A Vorlon ship took us there. It was an abandoned transport."

"Here, on Minbar?"

"Yes. It had been concealed in one of the cliff faces, in a series of caves."

A slight woman looked confused. "And how did you find the transport?"

Havah sighed. "I just did. I think it called me there. It's been kept in the dark for almost a thousand years. Maybe it wanted someone to know it was there. The Vorlons do use living ships, in a way."

"I see…and why take you to that place, why now?"

"Because maybe it's time for that piece of history to finish itself. Maybe the first council never meant to keep the secret forever."

They remained silent, listening and thinking. Then, the woman spoke again. "We must discuss this in private chambers. Do you have a report with this information that we can view?"

"Of course, Satai. I have made nine copies, and have already had them delivered to your attachés."

"Thank you, Anla Shok Na Lassee."

Havah bowed deeply and left.

The ball was out of her court now. As they walked to the transport, she looked at Polenni. "Are you angry?"

Polenni just stared in front of her. "At you? A little…No. I suppose not. I understand why you did what you did. I do not know what I would have done in the same place. I do not know how I feel now. Why? Why does it matter what I think, I have no perspective with which to judge you. I have never had such power at my hands to make such decisions, or to throw it away."

"Because it matters. Whatever history was a thousand years ago, and whatever history happens next, you know me. What you think, right now, matters."

Polenni sighed through her nose, and looked back at Havah. "So, you are insecure. Well, I do not have the same reverence that I once had for our leaders, historical or otherwise." She smirked pointedly at Havah. "But as I said already, I have no framework with which to gauge your actions…and I am not sorry for your friendship."

Havah laughed ruefully. "An honest answer, and not all bad."

They landed near one of the military complexes in Yedor. Havah dropped Polenni near the door. Polenni poked her head back in before Havah closed the hatch. "What will you do now?"

"I guess I'll wait to see what they decide, see how everything unfolds. I'm not really sure what my role is in anything at this point, even the Anla Shok. I've been executive officer in name only, really. At least lately."

"I am not known for my approval of long periods of spiritual reflection, but perhaps it has its uses at times. Perhaps you should meditate for a while."

Havah nodded wanly. "Yeah, that's never been one of my strong points either. But I guess there's no better time."

She left to find the stream that she and Katani sat at when she first had arrived on Minbar. _I'll have to go see her one of these days. _The stream was still there, burbling away, filling a pond that had grown murkier than when she'd last seen it. There was silt clogging the mouth of the stream, and the delicate crystal fountains had cracked and fallen into the water. The chunks lay sparkling beneath the surface, sending rainbows into the shaded currents. After an hour and a half of staring at the prisms, nothing seemed any clearer, and she was, if anything, more restless. She wandered by what was left of Katani and Sorail's bungalow. They had fortunately been sheltered in the central temple when the explosion that had destroyed that block went off. Nohri had been away at one of the telepath training centers, and their son had also been away. But Katani was not there, staying instead with her relatives in Tuvuri until their home could be restored. Havah stared at the ruin. It was being cleared for reconstruction. The block was empty, except for workers.

She went back to the quarters she kept while in Yedor and laid down. The bed still took her a while to get comfortable, but she was getting used to it. As soon as she closed her eyes, the sound of tinkling bells filled the flat. Havah got up and opened the door. An acolyte swept in with a bell drum, followed tentatively, by one of the religious caste members of the Council, the slim woman named Nool, still robed but unhooded. She turned to Havah face flushed and excited. "I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Lassee. We sent a summons, but could not locate you, so I came to ask in person. Will you take us to this place mentioned in your report?"

Well, that certainly was different than the old council, first a personal call, then, a request for exploration. "Uh, of course. But weren't the coordinates given in the report?"

"They were, but…you have been there, you were the one who discovered it. You can tell us more in person about this place, I believe, than you put in the report." She said quietly.

"Sure. Let me know when you are ready, and we'll go."

"We are ready now."

"Oh, well. Ok, do you want to go the way that Polenni and I went?"

"Yes, exactly."

The members of the new council wound their way through the brushy trail and clustered around Havah at the entrance point. She showed them as she traced the line down to the carved crystal that opened the orifice in the rock. Nool gazed around her in the dim light as they descended into the hangar, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Havah approached the ship first, letting it scan her, and communicating telepathically her intentions to bring the council thronged behind her. "Ok, one at a time, step up in front of the ship, so it can scan you. I'm sure it can do more than that, it's just that I'm still not too familiar with its temperament, so I don't want to spook it by having everyone converge on it all at once."

They silently complied, with a smile from Nool, and a scowl from one of the warriors. When the ship had scanned all of them, it extended its pseudopods and began enveloping the little crowd, to a couple astonished gasps.

As they paced through the tunnels, Nool watched Havah intently, a thoughtful look on her pale face. Zahat, formerly a civil engineer ran his hands up and down the seams of the hidden doors and played with the locking mechanisms, studiously. His mouth gaped when they entered the sanctuary that had once been a greenhouse, and instantly went in search of the water recycling units.

Havah let them explore for a few minutes before drawing them to the next room. This place made her sad. Turanni was back, looking through her eyes, remembering how many months this place had occupied her thoughts, building a place to hide their people, this lonely grotto on this lonely moon, a place she would never get to see if things went badly. Havah wandered through the crackling deadness and saw the vegetation grow lush again, saw the murky water clear. Even with the carefully designed peacefulness it was meant to impart, there was still a feeling of desperation marring the undertones, for her anyway. She shook herself and Havah nodded them to a worn, almost invisible path. "Satais! This way."

Indrawn breaths came from all of them as the lights illuminated the arsenal. The two warriors looked at one another and began sifting through the shelves, taking inventory, and examining some of the more unusual weaponry. She motioned them back to the cathedral.

"In Valen's Name!" Nool breathed.

The warriors began taking furious notes, dimensions, capabilities, power requirements, recordings. One of them, a tall middle-aged man in the uniform of an alyt spoke to Havah. "It is as you said. The singularity created would have an accretion radius of…perhaps 3000 of your kilometers. It would have to be activated in orbit about 4500 pil from the target planet, and then tidal forces would complete the destruction. And it appears to be completely of Minbari design. These crystals are made of a substance that, as far as I am aware, is only available on Minbar. It is possible to create such an instrument with other crystals, but it is abundant on our home-world, and has always been used for weapons manufacture, among other things. Where did you gain this information? You did not merely stumble onto it, exploring. It is too well hidden. Someone told you it was here. Who?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Perhaps. But we still must know." Nool piped in.

The past that Havah had been fighting back, from the lump in her throat, to the edgy regret at the sight of the coils, flooded into her, and it was Turanni who answered. She spoke in the ancient dialect. "My name is Turanni of the family of Callier, Star Riders clan, Alyt of the Ingata under Shai Alyt Valen, and Satai of the new council, the Grey Council. It was I who led you here."

All nine were staring at her with apprehension, disbelief, awe, skepticism. The warrior spoke first. "Why have you returned as a Human, then? If you are who you say, why now, why her?"

"I do not understand 'Human'. My blood continues."

"What do you mean? Do you mean the woman who brought us here is your descendant?"

"She? I am only one."

Nool continued, but waved away the question. "The young soldier who…never mind. Why are you here? Why have you shown us this?"

"No. I am not satisfied yet." The tall warrior spoke harshly. "Tell me of your life, tell me everything you remember beginning as early as you can remember." He had read archived details of her life, details very few had access to, details hidden within Grey Council files. This oddity would either stumble across one of those facts, or she would present erroneous information.

Turanni began with the memory of watching her father train. She got past the point of her father's death at Ki Shad'ha, when he stopped her, holding up his hand, saying nothing, face pale.

"Are you satisfied?" Nool asked.

"I am." He said, standing back to listen pensively.

"Why have you brought us here?" Nool asked again.

"I…I do not know. I failed to finish it. I…No one knows of this place but us nine, and now…they are gone. I do not see them anymore. I am all that is left, and I…my child…Trelann…Valen…I cannot see them anymore either. Someone must know of this place. Someone must know our people have a place to go if our world dies. And we do not go empty-handed. We can still fight when there are no more warriors."

"The Shadow War is over. They will not return this time."

"But others will. There will always be others. What about the Kal'tot? Someday, they will return."

"The…the Drakh?" Nool took a leap in logic that she would have to check on later in the histories. Somehow, those two were connected. "They have already returned, but they have no home-world anymore. Such a weapon as this will not serve to defeat them. If they are the same, they will inhabit other worlds, in secret, as they did ours."

Turanni appeared to consider this.

"What do you believe we should do with this, since you are the ones who built it?"

She still stood in reverie. "I…do not know. It is terrible to destroy entire worlds. And anyone who used it would be sacrificed. It must be positioned and monitored by living crew. We have not automated it yet. It is only a weapon for if there is no other chance."

"And the shelter?'

"There is something wrong. The air is stale."

"It has not been kept. Thank you, Turanni, for delivering your information."

She fell silent and Havah leaned heavily against the wall, staring unfocused in front of her.

"We must discuss this back home." The others nodded and left Havah to herself for a few minutes.

"Thank you for taking the time to assist us, Miss Lassee." Nool said as they boarded the transport. Everyone was quiet on the return to Minbar.

Havah bowed as they left to reconvene in the temple. Nool spoke again. "We might find it necessary to summon you in the future concerning certain details of this matter."

Havah's head was still reeling from the strangeness of the trip. She nodded queasily. "Yes, Satai. Of course."

There were 'certain details' that she wanted more of too. And it was time to get them, one way or another. She needed time, alone, where there was nothing else to distract her. She headed to Tinarel, the region of Neroon, and Turanni's home village, to the only place in the galaxy that seemed to have the possibility of any answers.

*Definition: Pil—Minbari measurement, equivalent to the length of a scroll, just as Humans measure in yards or feet.

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Created on 05/05/2005 08:48:00


	34. Chapter 34

This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 34—Vision Quest

She sat in the dark of the meditation room, of her family's home, waiting for the ghosts, waiting for the face she had seen in the window so long ago. They didn't come, and she realized that the house was too near to the rest of town, for what she wanted anyway. She pounded through the forest, weaving in and out of the giant latticework trunks, until the trees thinned and rocky mountainous terrain took over. The foothills were windy, dark and cold. A storm would come soon. She climbed into a nook of lichen-covered hill to wait.

She sat, as the squall line swept in and pounded the hillside with lightening, thunder, and rain, receded into a trickle, then pealed across the land with doubled force. It finally subsided into a gentle steady drizzle on the seventh day, and the sky remained an ashen grey.

Through the daze of hunger and fatigue, Havah stared at the pieces of dull sky. She screamed incoherently, rising from her mossy cubby and kicked through sods of grass, clawing rocks up from the cold earth and hurling them with all her strength at nowhere in particular. All of the black rage she had ever felt came pouring out of her mouth as she shrieked and ran through brush, whipping lashes into her face and neck. "Where are you! Come out and face me! Show your fucking face! Show yourself or get the hell out of my body, get the hell out of my life! I'm so sick of being manipulated! My name is Havah Lassee! This is my life, not yours! Who the hell are you and what do you want?" She screamed into the wind.

The mist coalesced around her, electric and clammy, brushing the wet face of a crystal outcropping facing her. She picked up another rock and slammed it against the surface, as a face formed in reflection. It was a dark face, ringed with many limbs. "**You know who I am. I am the Destroyer.**"

"The Shadows are gone! We saw them leave! Don't give me that mythical bullshit!" She yelled. "And where's Turanni?"

"**The !$%#(#! are indeed gone.**" He said an exceedingly long name that she couldn't follow, that hurt her ears. **"But I am not. I am in all races, in all sentients, in you.** **Turanni is a memory, a piece of you, like me. She cannot create new awareness, only what has been left in the past. She has no future, except through you. As long as you exist, I live."**

She took the rock and bashed at the face of the crystal until it cracked. But a wave rippled through the fog, and the face reappeared, shifting first behind her, then to one side, faster than her eye could follow it. "I HATE YOU!" She screamed.

"**You feed me.**"

Blinded by rage, she unsheathed her pike and slashed at the air around her, at anything close enough to make a connection. Tendrils of mist curled around her, like ghostly arms pulling her to the ground. She rose and battered the rocks, bushes, trees, and mist until her energy was spent, and then she lay, gazing up at the phantasm with seething hatred as it looked down at her. "I hate you."

"**I am you. You cannot excise me like a malignant growth. I have always been here."**

The Vorlon's voice flashed in her memory and she started crying. The rain dripped into her face, soaking dirt into the creases, running in rivulets into her hair. She'd come here looking for a memory, and found only rage, literally. Everything had led to this, naked anger, vibrating through her like a nuclear wind, shaping her cells, shaping her soul. "How can I make you go away?…And what will be left of me when you're gone?"

There was no reply. Only memories of anger, her father disappearing in a burst of flame and charred bones, Trelann's ship bursting into metallic detritus, floating in all directions, Kuraal crying in a place she couldn't retrieve her, the Shadows and the Vorlons, withdrawing their fleets of ships through a hole in the galaxy that they'd created, a gallery of their mistakes, of her mistakes, a timeline of events with no solution. _What now?_ The fury wore her down, and faded into a dull apathy. _I can't do this anymore._ _I was wrong. It's not enough to just understand mistakes, mine or anyone else's. The world, the galaxy is what it is, and I have to either do something about it, or let it go. If I can't fix my mistakes, then there's nothing left but to accept them. Either way, I can't do this anymore. How am I supposed to live with this thing in me, this monster? And how am I supposed to let it go? _There was no sound, but the pattering of rain.

Neroon filled her mind. He had lived most of his life that Havah had seen, rigid with anger, most of it futile, choking the monster into submission. But in his last moments, what had driven him?

"What do I do now? If this is supposed to be a truce, between me and you, between me and my past, how do I live with you?"

A gale of rain washed over her, and a voice rumbled in receding thunder. **"I am a force. I have no answer for you."**

She broke into renewed sobs, covering her face with her hands. "No." But there it was, the inescapable truth. People lived their entire lives without ever figuring that one out, and she thought that she could bully the answer from a thunderstorm. And she had gotten an answer, one she already knew and didn't want, and that was, there were no keys to make the Universe fall into place, no magic bullets, anywhere, ever. After a while, her sobs quieted into the even breath of sleep, matching the rhythm of the rain pelting her clothes and face.

Felshenn stood at the entrance to the house, pacing, as she came out of the woods, hair dripping, face smeared with dirt. The rain was coming down in sheets, but he appeared not to even notice. He said quietly across the distance, "I apologize for the intrusion. I was concerned after a few days of your absence. I assumed that you had come here. Now that I know you are well, I will leave you to your privacy."

"No! You don't have to go…Please stay." The sight of him, standing there, soaking wet, was comforting. _If this goes south, it'll really hurt. But I don't think he'll stop being my friend._ "I'm sorry for running off. I had to figure something out." She swallowed hard, pinned by his gaze.

"And did you find what you were looking for?"

"No. Sort of. I found out that what I was looking for doesn't exist, not in the way I thought."

"Ah." He smiled, as she came close. "I told you, I am not afraid of your anger."

"But I am." She said, and that was another truth. It was like a singularity that sucked all the light out of the air in a dizzying rush, and she couldn't hold on to the other parts of herself when the accretion disk started spinning towards the center. "I feel like I'm going to lose me, like I can't hold onto the world."

"Stop trying so hard. You will not lose yourself. That is a myth. What you fear is an eclipse, that the rage will be the only face that you can wear after a while. I do not believe that will happen."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your concern." He stroked the side of her face, pulling her close, his heat melting through her sodden clothes. "Some Minbari choose to wait their entire lives to become the image that they have crafted for themselves, and then they die alone, still waiting. I am not so arrogant to believe that I can become perfect in my lifetime."

She studied the groove of his lips, the faint scent of maple, in a draft of cold breeze, as his bare hand brushed down the back of her hair, breath touching her hairline.

He brought her eyes up to meet his. "I love you," he said simply.

Her legs felt shaky, the warmth of his body and his eyes melting her. "I know. And if you think that I will engage in the Pleasure Ritual with all fifteen million members of both of our families 'in attendance', you're going to be flying solo! I'm not into exhibitionism!"

He tossed his head back and bellowed laughter, echoing through the sounds of the rain lashing the ground around them. He renewed his grip, powerful arms resting against her back and kissed her hungrily until her lips burned, spreading down her length and into her belly. He took her wrist gently and pulled her towards the house, but she resisted. "No, I want to hear the rain. This way."

He gripped her hand and followed her into the forest, under the canopy of trees. His skin slid against hers, searing both of them as his strong hands trembled, removing her clothes, barely controlling his need. No sooner was her pungent skin bare to him, when she tackled him, and they landed in the underbrush, cackling with delight.

She straddled him, slipping her fingers under his coat, tunic and underclothes, feeling every hair, contour, muscle, and fold of skin. His eyes burned into her, with surprise and pleasure as she pulled off his uniform, tasting his body. He tasted like pancakes, which amused her to no end, since he smelled like maple syrup. She giggled and locked her lips into the hollow of his neck, sucking gently.

He laughed and rolled her over underneath him in the damp moss, moisture beading into the crease between them. "Something amuses you, little Changeling? My turn." And then he began to kiss her everywhere, his warm hands and body molding to her curves. The sound of the storm muffled the moans and laughter coming from the sodden forest, as water washed the sky.

Epilogue

Kir'ann burst in and ran to her great-great-great-great grandmother, breathless with the questions tumbling out of her smiley mouth faster than she could ask them, as usual.

"Yesterday in class, we were learning about Human social studies and there was a new girl and her name was Nistenn and she just moved from Tuzanor and SHE HAD HAIR! How come I don't have hair? How come you don't have a bone and Grandfather Felshenn has one? Is it true that you fought in the Second Shadow War 'cuz that's what the teacher said and is it true and did you ever SEE a Shadow? Did Grandfather ever see one? What did they look like for real? Were they really scary? Did you ever meet Sheridan and is he ever coming back? When is he coming back? We learned about him too and about Ivanova and Delenn, did you ever meet them? What was the caste system like, what was great-great-great…um…great, great grandfather Neroon like? Was he very fierce, was he a very big warrior? Did you ever have the Drakh Plague? What did the Vorlons look like?—"

"Enough, enough! One thing at a time, bubela!" Havah laughed. An arm as sere as papyrus and as wrinkled as the pouch of a loktar encircled Kir'ann with surprising strength. "Come…sit on your bubbi's lap." Kir'ann looked up into the ancient face scarred like a hidden moon and heard a voice like a sand-storm. "Let me tell you a story…"

In the deep of morning, while their great-great-great-great grandchildren were dreaming of the stars, at the hour the Vorlon Kosh had always called The Hour of Reflection, Havah and Felshenn went to the sea.

*This story is dedicated to Arundhati Roi, Michael Ventura, and all others who have never let their voices be silenced by the Night Watch, the Shadows, or anyone else.

***Acknowledgement-Big huge kudos to my husband Adam Coles for all of his help with the engineering and physics, and many many hours of reading and listening!**


End file.
